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I 


9[mcricau  Victor  Series 


EDITED    BY    LA U RENTE    HUTTON 


AMERICAN   ACTOR    SERIES 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER 


BY 


KATE     FIELD 


WJA\)  Cllitstratioits 


BOSTON 

JAMES    R,   OSGOOD    AND    COMPANY 

1882 


Copyright,  tSSs, 
By  James  R.  Osgood  and  Company. 

A/i  rights  reserved. 


University  Press  : 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge. 


DEDICATED 

OF 

CHARLES     DICKENS 


42: sat 


C  O  X  T  E  N  T  S. 

pa(;e 

Fechter  in  Europe,  1S24-1S69 3 

Fechtek  in  the  Untied  States,  1S70-1879  ....  65 

Fechter's  "  H.xmlet  " 87 

Fechter's  "Cl.vude  Melnotte" 121 

Fechter  in  Four  Cha.r.\cters 131 

Recollections  ok  Cii.\rles  Fechter 145 

Press  Notices  on  Fechter's  Acting 177 


Index 


193 


LIST     OF     ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Fechier  in  Paris Frontispiece 

Fac-simile  of  Letter  of  Fechter 24 

Fechter  as  Hamlet,  —  in  London 50 

Fechter  as  Hamlet,  —  in  New  York 87 

Fechter  as  Monte  Christo,  —  in  New  York    .    .     .  136 


FECHTER    IN    EUROPE. 
1824-1869. 


CHARLES    ALBERT    FECHTER 
IN    EUROPE. 


o>*:c 


1824-1869. 

Genrts  is  no  more  a  matter  of  accident  than  the 
rising  of  the  sun.  Though  genius  dazzle  with  the  un- 
expected brilliancy  of  a  comet,  like  the  comet  it  has 
its  regular  orbit,  and  when  the  science  of  art  has  been 
discoveretl,  as  it  will  be  ere  the  dawn  of  the  millennium, 
the  world  will  know  the  cause  as  well  as  the  effect  of 
human  greatness. 

Blood  tells  under  all  circumstances,  and  never  has  it 
told  a  more  straightforward  story  than  in  the  character 
of  Charles  Albert  Fechter,  in  whose  ancestors  we  see 
the  beginnings  of  himself.  It  is  not  a  little  significant 
that  his  mother  bore  the  kingly  name  of  Regis,  with 
which  name,  too,  royalty  took  personal  interest,  it  be- 
ing an  old  Piedmontese  custom  that  the  king  should 
stand  sponser  to  the  twelfth  child  of  any  of  his  subjects. 
Now  it  happened  that  Fechter's  maternal  grandfather 
was  the  twenty-first  of  twenty-six  children  ;  consequently 
the  king  became  godfather  to  his  twelfth  and  twenty- 


4  •      CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

fourth  great-grand-uncles  !  Italian  by  birth,  this  grand- 
father was  equally  Italian  in  his  profession  of  carver, 
yet  not  so  Italian  but  he  could  make  his  home  in 
Flanders,  where  Fechter's  mother,  Marie  Ang^lique 
Regis,  was  born.  Arcaghon,  France,  was  the  birth- 
place of  his  father,  Jean  Maria  Guillaume  Fechter,  his 
paternal  grandfather  being  a  native  of  Cologne  and  of 
German  lineage.  This  grandfather's  tendencies  were 
likewise  in  the  direction  of  art.  He  found  congenial 
employment  in  polishing  court-suit  buttons  and  in 
making  sword-handles,  the  latter  of  which  occupations 
was  not  scorned  by  Benvenuto  Cellini. 

The  alphabet  of  art  having  been  acquired  by  Fech- 
ter's grandparents,  it  was  not  strange  that  they  should 
bequeath  greater  abilities  to  their  children.  Jean  Ma- 
ria Fechter  was  not  only  an  excellent  sculptor,  but  a 
born  comedian,  who,  however,  confined  his  acting  to 
private  life  ;  while  his  wife,  whom  he  married  in  Lisle, 
was  more  than  usually  gifted.  Though  uneducated, 
she  possessed  literary  and  artistic  tastes,  wTiting  verses 
and  stories  of  considerable  feeling  and  defdy  turning 
her  fingers  to  account  by  the  manufacture  of  artificial 
flowers.  She  would  take  the  delicate,  almost  impalpa- 
ble tissue  that  lines  the  shells  of  eggs,  and,  fashioning 
it  into  roses,  would  simultaneously  color  and  scent 
them  with,  rose-water.  But  these  flowers  were  too 
fragile  for  mortal  use,  so  Madame  Fechter  resorted  to 
stouter  material.  Born  of  Piedmontese  parents,  she 
spoke  no  Italian,  very  little  Flemish,  and  adopted  the 
language  of  her  husband's  chosen  home,  France. 

Gallic  as  was   Fechter  pcre  in  all  his  feelings,  he 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


5 


never  became  naturalized.  Receiving  an  offer  from 
Storr  and  Mortimer,  the  great  jewellers  of  England,  to 
take  the  position  of  the  well-known  sculptor  Tamissier, 
whose  unfortunate  habits  had  rendered  him  unfit  for 
work,  Jean  Fechter  moved  from  Paris  to  London, 
where,  in  Hanway  Yard,  Oxford  Street,  Charles  Albert 
Fechter  was  born  October  23,  1824.  He  was  the 
youngest  but  one  of  thirteen  children,  eleven  of  whom 
died  in  infancy.  \\'ith  artistic  proclivities  on  both  sides 
of  the  house,  —  with  the  hot  blood  of  Italy,  the  specu- 
lative blood  of  Germany,  strongly  impregnated  with 
French  verve,  flowing  through  his  veins, — it  is  not  strange 
that  Charles  Fechter,  *'  the  man  without  a  country," 
should  belong  to  all  the  world,  which  Shakespeare  tells 
us  is  a  stage.  Learning  to  read  at  a  very  early  age, 
his  passion  for  the  drama  evinced  itself  in  peculiar  the- 
atrical monologues,  and  in  devotion  to  Shakespeare, 
—  the  plays  of  "  Hamlet,"  "  Othello,"  and  "  Macbeth  " 
being  especial  favorites.  Appropriating  garments  be- 
longing to  his  parents,  the  youthful  Roscius  was  in  the 
habit  of  retiring  to  an  unoccupied  room  where,  after 
locking  the  door,  he  blackened  his  nose  and  arrayed 
himself  in  motley  attire.  Thus,  half-way  'twixt  man 
and  woman,  he  spouted  and  strutted,  to  the  great  ter- 
ror of  the  mice  and  the  infinite  satisfaction  of  himself. 
During  these  private  exhibitions  Fechter  dedicated  his 
energies  to  tragedy,  but,  being  endowed  with  great  vi- 
vacity, relieved  himself,  when  off  duty,  by  jumping  on 
chairs  and  tables,  drawing  caricatures,  and  playing 
monkey  for  the  delectation  of  visitors.  Not  content 
with  his  own  interpretation  of  imaginary  heroes,  Fech- 


6        CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

ter's  passion  frequently  overcame  Fechter's  conscience, 
and  many  of  his  father's  valuable  coins  were  secretly 
disposed  of  in  order  that,  like  a  bad  little  cherub,  he 
might  sit  up  aloft  among  the  gods  of  Drury  Lane. 
There  Fechter  feasted  his  eyes  and  ears  on  Macready, 
Charles  Kemble,  the  elder  Vandenhoff  and  the  elder 
"VA'^allack,  recollections  of  whom  he  retained  to  his 
death.  Of  the  four,  Charles  Kemble,  with  his  charm- 
ingly natural  acting,  was  his  favorite,  and  Vandenhoff 
his  '•'  cold  blanket."  Wallack  made  a  great  impression 
upon  him,  and  IMacready  delighted  him  in  "William 
Tell."  But  the  artist  of  all  others  whom  he  worshipped 
was  Malibran,  She  often  held  her  young  lover  on  her 
knee,  little  knowing  the  amount  of  sentiment  she  had 
inspired  in  an  eight-year-old  boy.  Poor  ISIalibran  ! 
that  she  with  her  great  heart  and  great  genius  should 
have  married  a  great  brute  and  died  neglected  ! 

Sent  to  Templeton's  College  at  the  age  of  eight, 
Fechter  stood  very  well,  showing  great  aptitude  for 
Greek  and  Latin,  great  fondness  for  history,  —  although 
he  never  could  retain  a  name  or  a  date,  —  and  despising 
every  branch  of  mathematics.  Largely  endowed  with 
imagination,  young  Fechter  entertained  his  teachers 
with  marvellous  stories  of  adventure,  and,  magnetizing 
them  as  he  later  magnetized  larger  audiences  in  more 
romantic  situations,  enjoyed  their  favor  to  an  unusual 
extent.  Of  course  a  lad  of  Fechter's  mettle  could  not 
but  be  attractive  to  the  bullies  of  his  school,  who,  true 
to  their  prerogative,  set  upon  him  in  numbers  and 
nicknamed  him  '•'  French  frog."  Stung  to  the  quick 
by  this  taunt,  Fechter  resented  it,  but,  fighting  single- 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER.  7 

handed,  was  always  worsted.  "  Only  come  on  one  at 
a  time  and  I  '11  whip  every  one  of  you,"  said  Fechter ; 
but  no,  the  buUies  preferred  to  attack  him  in  a  body, 
and  so  the  "  French  frog  "  vowed  vengeance.  Way- 
laying the  leading  persecutor  one  day,  he  thoroughly 
whipped  his  adversary ;  the  bullies  cried  "  quits,"  and 
ever  after  treated  the  "  French  frog "  like  a  true 
Briton. 

England,  with  all  its  virtues,  was  not  France  to 
Fechter /^rt',  who  in  1830  once  more  found  himself  in 
Paris ;  but  the  Revolution  came,  and  the  unhappy 
sculptor  was  again  driven  across  the  Channel.  Though 
but  six  years  old,  Fechter  remembered  seeing  the  great 
Mademoiselle  Georges  act,  and  being  carried  over  the 
barricades  on  his  father's  shoulders.  This  abortive 
attempt  at  migration  ser\-ed  to  endear  Paris  still  more 
to  Jean  Fechter's  heart,  and  the  failure  of  1 830  became 
difait  accompli  in  1836.  Poor  as  the  father  was,  —  the 
time  had  been  when  he  had  broken  up  chairs  to  serve 
for  firewood,  —  he  sent  Charles  to  school  at  Boulogne- 
sur-Seine  ;  but  at  the  end  of  two  years  the  boy  returned 
home  to  aid  in  supporting  the  family.  Assisting  his 
father  in  making  bronzes  and  candelabras,  studying 
French  with  Hersant  his  drawing-master,  reading  the 
classics,  and  dreaming  of  the  theatre  which  he  fre- 
quented with  the  constancy  of  a  passionate  lover, 
Charles  led  a  busy  life  for  two  years,  and  at  sixteen 
became  the  hero  of  a  duel.  How  did  it  happen? 
Foolishly,  of  course.  Taken  to  the  Caf6  Militaire  by  a 
friend  much  older  than  himself,  —  a  captain  in  the 
army,  —  young  Fechter  listened  to  stories  of  prowess 


8  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

until,  excited  by  wine  and  cigars  most  unwisely  given 
to  him,  he  too  longed  for  an  opportunity  to  prove  his 
courage.  The  subject  of  duelling  being  introduced, 
there  was  no  man  present  but  could  revive  some  won- 
derful affair  of  so-called  honor  in  which  he  had  either 
killed  or  wounded  his  opponent.  At  least  young 
Fechter  could  fight  a  duel  if  some  one  would  be  good 
enough  to  insult  him ;  and,  flushed  with  the  insidious 
thief  that  steals  away  even  the  best  of  brains,  he  found 
an  enemy  in  his  friend  and  host.  Taking  offence  at  a 
trifling  remark,  the  aspiring  youth  slapped  the  face  of 
Monsieur  le  Capitaine  with  his  own  epaulet  and  de- 
manded the  satisfaction  of  a  gentleman.  Badly  as  the 
Captain  felt,  he  was  forced  by  that  noblesse,  which  so 
frequently  obliges  people  to  make  fools  of  themselves, 
to  accept  the  challenge.  As  the  challenged  party  he  of 
course  had  the  choice  of  weapons,  and  selected  the  ra- 
pier. With  pistols  Fechter  might  kill  the  Captain ; 
with  rapiers  the  Captain  could  kill  Fechter,  but  would 
not.  So  the  two  met,  with  their  seconds,  in  that  Bois 
de  Boulogne  of  other  days,  when  it  was  a  gloomy  forest 
sacred  to  duellists  and  highwaymen.  "Coward  !  "  was 
Fechter's  salutation  to  his  friend ;  "  you  have  selected 
the  rapier  because  you  know  you  are  master  of  it. 
With  pistols  the  chances  would  have  been  more  even. 
At  least  I  can  call  you  Coward,  and  from  my  soul  I  do 
so."  Coward  indeed  !  The  Captain's  only  fear  was 
lest,  in  giving  the  "  satisfaction "  for  which  Hotspur 
panted,  he  should  not  be  sufficiently  expert  to  draw  the 
minimum  of  blood.  These  fears  were  realized  when 
Fechter's  rapier  fell  and  the  blood  flowed  from  his 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER.  9 

wrist.  The  wound,  though  severe,  was  not  dangerous, 
and  Fechter,  having  fought  his  duel  and  learned  how 
unjust  he  had  been  to  the  Captain,  forgot  his  grievance, 
embraced  his  enemy,  and  was  taken  home  alive  to  his 
terrified  parents.  Would  that  all  equally  absurd  duels 
ended  as  happily  ! 

Prom  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  to  the  Salle  Moliere, 
from  duelhng  to  private  theatricals,  seems  a  long  step, 
yet  none  too  long  for  Fechter,  who  in  this  same  year, 
1840,  made  his  first  appearance  behind  those  footlights 
by  which  he  had  been  dazed.  The  Salle  Moliere  is  a 
small  theatre  in  the  Passage  Moliere,  which  at  that  time 
was  used  by  St.  Aulaire,  — a  famous  teacher  of  acting, 
Rachel's  first  instructor,  —  and  let  once  a  week  to 
amateurs  for  private  theatricals.  Theirs  was  a  unique 
company,  changing  with  each  performance  and  singu- 
larly enough  brought  together.  A  list  of  the  pieces  to 
be  played  being  put  up,  any  one  by  selecting  his  part 
and  paying  for  it  —  the  amount  charged  being  in  pro- 
portion to  the  importance  of  the  character  —  could 
strut  his  brief  hour  upon  the  stage.  Such  a  republican 
form  of  government  would  lead  to  eminently  doleful 
results  in  this  countr}-,  where  actors  are  made,  not 
born  ;  but  France  is  not  America.  There,  it  is  said, 
all  men  and  women  are  actors  by  nature,  and  the  worst 
become  professional. 

This  company  of  the  Salle  Moliere  was  eminently 
successful,  —  so  much  so  that  Fechter's  brother-in-law, 
himself  an  ardent  admirer  of  the  drama,  paid  the  young 
sculptor's  fee,  and  put  his  name  down  for  the  jennc 
premier  in   Dumas's  "  l-e   Mari   de  la   Veuve."     The 


TO       CHARLES  ALBERT  FE CUTER. 

amount  expended  for  acting  was  returned  in  tickets,  so 
that  the  aspiring  amateurs  were  always  sure  of  an  audi- 
ence. Fechter's  success  was  so  great  that  he  soon  be- 
came a  necessity  to  the  company,  one  of  whose  mem- 
bers, now  a  distinguished  diplomatist,  (diplomacy  is 
but  another  name  for  acting),  insisted  upon  paying 
Fechter's  fees  in  order  that  he  might  be  "  stirred  up  " 
by  contact  with  so  magnetic  and  admirable  an  actor. 

After  seeing  Fechter  perform,  St.  Aulaire  came  up 
with  a  strange  gentleman,  saying,  "  My  boy,  if  you  will 
come  to  my  cours  (class) ,  I  will  teach  you  for  noth- 
ing." "  And  if  you  make  the  stage  your  profession,  I 
will  give  you  all  my  parts,"  added  the  unknown,  who 
turned  out  to  be  no  other  than  Scribe  !  Fechter  could 
not  accept  St.  Aulaire's  generous  offer,  for  the  reason 
that  his  father  required  his  assistance  in  the  studio ; 
but  he  did  not  forget  the  great  compliment  paid  him 
by  the  first  of  professors  and  the  first  of  playwrights, 
and  longed  for  emancipation. 

Temporary  release  soon  came.  At  this  time  Du- 
vernoir,  a  well-known  singer,  now  a  professor  in  the 
Conservatoire  of  Paris,  was  organizing  a  company  for 
Florence,  Italy,  and  at  the  last  moment  lost  his  juve- 
nile actor,  Gaston,  who  was  unexpectedly  drafted  into 
the  army.  Remembering  the  great  ability  displayed 
by  Fechter  at  the  Salle  Moliere,  Duvernoir  offered 
him  the  vacant  situation.  A  winter  in  Florence,  all 
the  "  interesting  lovers,"  and  a  salary  combined  !  The 
offer  proved  irresistible,  and  in  spite  of  fatherly  ex- 
postulation the  stage-struck  youth  set  off  for  Italy  in 
January,  1841. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  EECIITER.  u 

To  dream  of  acting  and  to  act  are  sadly  different,  as 
le  jcune  premier  soon  found  to  his  cost.  Starting  with 
a  modest  wardrobe,  he  made  the  mournful  discovery 
that  his  requirements  greatly  exceeded  his  possessions, 
and  straightway  developed  latent  abilities  in  tailoring 
and  boot-making.  Fechter  not  only  made  his  own 
dresses,  but  cut  those  of  actors  as  impecunious  as  him- 
self. But  top-boots,  —  what  should  he  do  for  these 
very  expensive  and  very  necessary  articles?  The 
question  was  father  to  the  answer.  Is  not  genius  ever 
equal  to  an  emergency?  What  should  he  do  for  top- 
boots  ?  \\'hy,  invent  them,  of  course  !  So  out  of  thin 
oil-cloth  Fechter  manufactured  a  pair  of  boots  of  so 
stylish  a  cut  and  perfect  a  fit  as  to  be  the  envy  of  his 
associates.  Love-making  in  those  top-boots  must  have 
possessed  a  double  fascination.  It  could  not  have 
been  bootless.  Ah,  and  there  was  that  crowning  glory 
of  man,  a  hat !  Silk  hats  are  a  poor  man's  natural  en- 
emy, yet  a  lover  without  a  good-looking  hat  is  about  as 
impossible  as  a  pretty  woman  without  a  head  of  hair. 
But  had  not  Fechter  an  old  hat?  What  could  be 
easier  than  to  wet  it  whenever  necessary  and  make  it 
shine  like  the  rising  sun  ?  Those  home-made  clothes, 
those  ingenious  boots,  and  that  deceitful  hat  carried 
Fechter  through  his  season  in  Italy,  perhaps  for  the 
very  good  reason  that  the  season  was  not  much  longer 
than  his  original  top-boots.  Never  had  Florence  known 
such  a  winter.  The  oldest  inhabitant  went  mad  in  en- 
deavoring to  conjure  up  the  ghost  of  alike  recollection. 
Almanacs  were  in  vain.  July  invaded  January,  and 
the  snow  on  the  Apennines,  melted  by  the  hot  breath 


12  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

of  summer,  vanished  into  thin  air.  Of  what  avail  to  per- 
form French  comedy  at  the  Cocomero  ("  Watermelon"), 
when  the  astonished  Florentines  were  longing  with 
tragic  thirst  to  eat  their  accustomed  watermelons  in 
the  streets?  Moreover,  there  was  a  rival  French 
troupe  at  another  theatre.  One  might  have  survived  ; 
the  two  killed  each  other. 

Nevertheless,  Manager  Duvemoir  persevered  in  liis 
enterprise  for  six  weeks,  and  Fechter  won  praise  from 
the  Sir  Hubert  Stanleys  of  the  period.  Strange  to  say, 
every  play  advertised  was  by  Scribe.  Those  were  the 
good  old  days  of  Austrian  surveillance,  when  grand 
dukes  held  their  court,  and  censors  supervised  public 
morals.  Dumas  was  their  bete  ?wire,  JNIoliere  was  sniffed 
at,  but  Scribe  was  considered  harmless ;  so  Scribe  be- 
came the  author  of  "Tartuffe,"  wore  Dumas's  colors, 
and  displayed  a  versatihty  never  known  before  or  since. 
There  was  no  press  to  tell  tales,  the  censors  nursed 
their  blissful  ignorance,  and  the  knowing  public  enjoyed 
the  joke. 

Fechter  enjoyed  a  joke  of  quite  a  different  hue. 
Returning  one  night  from  the  theatre,  he  was  assaulted 
by  a  thief  who,  attracted  by  a  very  large  stage  jewel,  —  a 
diamond-paste  pin  which  he  supposed  to  be  real, — 
thought  it  easy  work  to  rob  so  slight  a  youth.  Fech- 
ter's  hot  blood  and  practised  muscle  soon  undeceived 
the  robber,  who,  upon  finding  himself  at  a  disadvan- 
tage, drew  a  dirk.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  Fechter 
spoke  not  one  word  of  Italian ;  the  robber  not  one 
word  of  French.  The  language  of  pantomime  was 
common  to  both  however,  and  they  acted  out  the 
following  dialogue. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER. 


13 


"  O  strike,  if  you  like,"  gesticulated  Fechter ;  "  I'm 
entirely  unarmed,  and  you  can  have  it  all  your  own 
way ;  but  as  you  want  nothing  of  me  but  my  diamond 
pin,  it  is  hardly  worth  while  killing  me,  when  you  can 
have  it  on  easier  teniis." 

"  How  so  ?  "  asked  the  robber. 

"  Why,  I  '11  make  an  exchange.  Give  me  that 
cameo  in  your  shirt-bosom,  and  I  '11  give  you  my  dia- 
mond." 

"  You  're  a  queer  sort  of  fellow,"  replied  the  robber. 
"  I  rather  hke  you.     It 's  a  bargain." 

Whereupon  the  exchange  took  place.  Actor  and 
robber  shook  hands  and  separated,  —  the  former  in  pos- 
session of  a  very  beautiful  cameo,  the  latter  sole  pro- 
prietor of  pinchbeck  !  ^\^^at  that  robber  did  to  himself, 
upon  discovering  how  completely  the  tables  had  been 
turned,  remains  a  mystery.  Certainly  Fechter  never 
acted  better  than  on  this  occasion. 

At  the  end  of  the  sbc  weeks  Manager  Duvemoir, 
poor  in  pocket  and  in  spirits,  called  his  company  to- 
gether, declared  himself  bankrupt,  paid  a  few  cents  on 
a  dollar,  and  dismissed  his  friends  with  a  tearful  bless- 
ing. With  characteristic  generosity  Fechter  divided 
his  share  among  the  humbler  actors,  who  expressed 
their  gratitude  by  immediately  decamping  with  a  por- 
tion of  his  wardrobe.  Penniless,  Fechter  applied  for 
aid  to  a  banker  friend,  proposing  to  leave  his  clothes, 
books,  etc.  as  security.  Believing  the  jeune  premier'' s 
word  to  be  as  good  as  his  bond,  the  banker  lent  him 
money  and  gave  him  a  draft  on  a  Marseilles  house  for 
one  thousand   francs.     Thus  fortified,  Fechter  started 


14 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


for  France  with  the  \drtuous  intention  of  making  no  use 
of  the  draft;  but  Fechter  was  young,  and  found  as 
great  difficulty  in  keeping  as  in  making  money,  Mar- 
seilles was  attractive,  he  might  never  travel  again,  and 
so  in  Marseilles  he  remained  until  his  purse  became  an 
aching  void,  and  the  letter  of  credit  his  only  friend. 
Presenting  this  letter  he  was  received  with  unaccount- 
able "effusion."  "My  dear  fellow,"  exclaimed  the 
banker,  seizing  Fechter's  hands  and  ^^Tinging  them  vig- 
orously, —  "  my  dear  fellow,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you. 
It 's  a  boy,  I  tell  you  it 's  a  boy,  and  such  a  boy  !  A 
marvel !  You  never  saw  anything  like  it  in  your  life 
and  you  never  will,  take  my  word  for  it.  Money.? 
Certainly.  Any  amount  you  please  to  name.  I  never 
was  so  happy  in  all  my  life.  There  !  there 's  the 
amount,  and  to  think  it 's  a  boy  !  " 

Entirely  bewildered  by  this  extraordinar}'  conduct, 
Fechter  wondered  whether  he  were  dealing  with  an 
escaped  lunatic.  He  became  convinced  of  it  upon 
finding  that  the  banker  asked  for  no  receipt.  On  sug- 
gesting its  advisability  to  the  banker  the  latter  replied  : 
"  Bless  my  soul,  certainly.  Did  n't  I  take  a  receipt  ? 
Well,  it 's  a  boy  you  know,  and  how  can  I  think  of 
anything  else  ?  There  now,  it 's  all  right ;  here  's  what 
belongs  to  you,  and  I'm  the  happiest  man  in  the 
world  !"  "Well,  he  is  mad,"  thought  Fechter,  as  he 
walked  away;  "a  raving  maniac,"  he  added,  when, 
upon  opening  the  package,  he  discovered  his  receipt ! 
Returning,  Fechter  apprised  the  banker  of  his  mistake, 
and  handed  back  the  important  voucher.  "  Great 
Heaven  !"  he  exclaimed,  "you  don't  say  so?     Did  I 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


15 


do  that?  Well,  well,  —  it's  a  boy  and  a  beauty.  We 
have  n't  yet  decided  upon  a  name,  but  I  '11  write  you 
all  about  it  for  I  'in  sure  you  '11  want  to  know."  And 
again  the  happy  banker  took  an  affectionate  farewell 
of  his  young  customer  with  the  final  explanation  that 
the  "  boy  "  was  his  first  child  ! 

It  was  a  welcome  day  to  Fechter's  parents  when  the 
prodigal  son  returned.  "No  more  theatre,"  said  the 
father;  "I  want  you  to  be  a  sculptor."  So  Fechter 
became  a  student  of  the  Academic  des  Beaux  Arts, 
working  there  every  evening  after  spending  his  days 
over  bronzes  in  his  father's  studio.  Work,  however, 
did  not  lessen  his  love  of  fun,  which  found  many  an 
outlet.  One  night  he,  in  company  with  equally  exu- 
berant students,  locked  up  an  ecrivain  public  (letter- 
wTiter  for  the  ignorant  poor)  in  his  portable  box  of  a 
shop,  and,  wheehng  him  off,  left  him  several  miles  from 
his  beat.  The  little  man  pounded,  the  little  man 
scolded,  the  little  man  did  his  best  to  get  out  of  the 
window ;  but  little  as  he  was,  the  window  was  less,  and 
there  in  solitude  and  rage  he  passed  the  night,  no 
police  coming  to  his  rescue  until  the  next  morning. 
Unable  to  give  any  explanation  of  his  strange  situation, 
the  little  man  got  the  credit  of  temporary  insanity,  — 
a  verdict  of  great  popularity  with  all  juries  averse  to 
investigation. 

Fechter's  thoughts  never  failed  to  return  to  his  first 
love,  for  it  was  during  this  same  year,  1S41,  that  he 
entered  the  Conservatoire  with  the  determination  of 
studying  for  the  Theatre  Frangais.  He  aspired  to 
grand  roles,  and  wished  to  base  his  style  on  classic 


1 5       CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER- 

models.  Fired  with  ambition,  he  went  before  his 
judges.  First  among  the  inquisitors  came  Professor 
Provost,  who  eyed  young  Hotspur  with  disdainful  pity. 
Those  who  knew  the  broad-shouldered,  full-chested 
Fechter  can  hardly  think  of  him  as  a  very  thin,  very 
long,  and  sentimentally  delicate  youth ;  yet  such  was 
his  appearance  in  1841. 

"  Now,  sir;"  said  the  grim  professor,  "  what  do  you 
want?  " 

"  I  want  to  be  an  actor," 

"  An  actor,  indeed  !  Permit  me  to  assure  you  that 
acting  is  out  of  the  question.  You  've  no  lungs,  sir ; 
you  are  consumptive,  sir ;  and  my  advice  to  you  is  to 
take  a  great  deal  of  exercise.  When  you  walk,  throw 
your  coat  open  and  your  shoulders  back,  put  your 
thumbs  in  the  armholes  of  your  vest,  and  take  long 
respirations.  If  you  follow,  my  advice  you  may  live, 
but  you  can  never  be  an  actor." 

Conscious  of  power,  and  by  no  means  persuaded 
that  the  gods  loved  him  sufficiently  to  mark  him  for  an 
early  death,  Fechter  ran  the  gauntlet  of  the  entire  Con- 
servatoire.    Michelot  was  his  next  critic. 

"  Eh  bien,  what  will  you  recite?  " 

"  I  am  up  in  Scide  of  Voltaire's  '  Mahomet.'  " 

"  That  will  do  very  well.     Allons." 

Sitting  up  after  the  manner  of  orchestral  conductors, 
Michelot  made  an  imaginary  baton  of  his  right  arm  and 
began  to  beat  time  as  if  the  performance  were  operatic, 
and  tlie  youth  before  him  a  tenor  about  to  sing  his  first 
romanza.  This  was  too  much  for  Fechter,  whose  eyes 
and  ears  were  of  the  quickest,  whose  sense  of  humor 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER.  ,7 

was  most  acute,  and  whose  audacity  was  almost  un- 
paralleled in  the  annals  of  the  stage.  Acting  upon  the 
impulse  of  the  moment  he  carried  out  Michelot's  sug- 
gestion, rushed  forward  wth  operatic  gesticulation,  sang 
Voltaire's  hexameters,  and  turned  heavy  tragedy  into 
laughable  burlesque.  The  effect  upon  Michelot  can 
be  more  readily  imagined  than  described.  There  was 
nothing  to  be  said,  because  this  suiting  the  voice  to 
Michelot's  action  was  too  clever  and  appropriate  a 
satire  for  words,  especially  as  those  present  enjoyed  the 
joke  immensely. 

In  his  third  trial  Fechter  stood  up  before  Samson. 

"You  will  attempt  Seide,"  said  Samson.  "Very 
well,  begin  at  the  fourth  act." 

"But,  M.  Samson,"  remonstrated  the  youth,  "  I 'd 
rather  begin  at  the  beginning.  I  must  get  warmed  up 
before  I  can  do  my  best  in  that  act." 

"Nonsense,"  replied  Samson.  "You  ought  to  be 
able  to  begin  anywhere.     Let  me  have  the  fourth  act." 

Obeying  the  sovereign  command,  Fechter  plunged 
///  7ncdias  res,  going  through  the  dramatic  interview  be- 
tween Si-ide  and  Palmirc  as  far  as  the  question,  "  Qui  ? 
Zopire?"  in  scene  fourth.  Giving  this  with  all  the 
dramatic  intensity  demanded  by  the  situation,  the  young 
tragedian  was  taken  aback  by  Samson's  interruption  : 
"Plus  bete,  mon  ami,  plus  bete.  'Qui?  Zopire?' 
doit  etre  plus  bete  ! " 

"  I  really  cannot  say  it  like  you,  sir,"  replied  Fechter, 
and  the  rebellious  youth  was  ordered  down. 

Last  came  Beauvallet,  with  whom  Fechter  had  much 
better  success,  being  allowed  to  go  through  Seide  with- 


1 8       CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER 

out  comment.  "  That  will  do,"  said  Beauvallet,  "  you 
are  quite  as  bad  as  any  of  those  at  the  Theatre  Fran- 
^ais,"  —  a  gruff  compliment  which  was  taken  advantage 
of  by  him  when,  after  Fechter's  debut,  he  claimed  the 
revolutionary  Seide  as  a  pupil ! 

At  the  end  of  three  weeks  Fechter  left  the  Conser- 
vatoire, disgusted  with  a  re'gime  in  which  no  two  pro- 
fessors agreed.  Provost,  Michelot,  and  Samson  had 
removed  the  reverential  veil  from  his  eyes,  and,  losing 
respect  for  their  judgment,  he  refused  to  submit 'to  their 
instruction.  Disheartened,  he  discarded  all  thoughts 
of  the  stage,  although  he  still  memorized  the  classics 
and  pursued  his  study  of  the  French  language  with  his 
old  professor,  Didier.  Putting  his  best  energies  into 
his  night  work  at  the  Beaux  Arts,  he  labored  diligently 
for  three  years,  and  the  summer  of  1 844  found  him  one 
of  the  graduating  class  competing  for  the  first  grand 
medal,  which  includes  the  high  honor  of  being  sent  to 
Rome  for  five  years  at  the  expense  of  the  government. 
Each  scholar  becomes  a  state's  prisoner.  He  is  con- 
demned to  solitary  confinement,  with  one  hour's  soli- 
tary exercise  per  day  ;  and  at  the  end  of  six  weeks,  wet 
clay  his  only  companion,  is  expected  to  take  the  form 
of  a  bas-relief  of  original  composition.  The  subject  is 
always  given  and  the  best  work  obtains  the  prize. 
With  emulation  fully  aroused,  —  anxious  also  to  please  his 
father,  whose  fondest  hope  was  that  his  son  should  be 
a  sculptor,  —  Fechter  went  to  work  with  gusto  upon  the 
story  of  the  Good  Samaritan.  Making  the  composition 
as  simple  as  possible,  introducing  the  bare  facts  of  two 
male  figures  and  a  donkey,  Fechter  saw  in  the  classic 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


19 


dress  an  opportunity  for  the  display  of  his  knowledge 
of  the  human  form,  and  took  advantage  of  it.  Finish- 
ing his  task  long  before  the  expiration  of  the  time  spec- 
ified, he  was  yet  held  in  durance  vile  until  the  last 
moment,  when  he  returned  home  to  await  the  verdict 
of  the  examining  committee. 

Meanwhile  Fechter's  brother-in-law  had  been  quietly 
working  in  an  entirely  different  direction.  Never  for- 
getting his  own  and  Fechter's  passion  for  the  stage,  and 
believing  that  the  lad  was  born  for  "  only  this  and 
nothing  more,"  Monsieur  le  Beau  Frere  inscribed 
Fechter's  name  on  the  list  of  applicants  for  debuts 
at  the  Theatre  Frangais.  Any  one  is  given  this 
liberty ;  and  if,  after  a  test  rehearsal,  the  applicant  be 
deemed  satisfactory,  he  is  entitled  to  three  public 
debuts,  after  which  he  is  dismissed  or  received  into  the 
regular  company,  according  to  the  ability  displayed. 
Thus  it  happened  that  while  Fechter  was  nervously 
awaiting  the  verdict  of  the  Academy,  he  received  an 
order  to  present  himself  before  the  tribunal  of  the 
Theatre  Frangais.  Ignorant  of  the  part  played  by  his 
brother-in-law,  and  concluding  that  he  had  been  called 
on  the  strength  of  merit  only,  he  prepared  himself  as 
best  he  could.  Trembling  with  fear  he  faced  the  un- 
seen and  unknown  judges  who  sat  before  him,  swallowed 
up  in  the  darkness  which  reigns  throughout  the  audito- 
rium of  a  theatre  by  day.  With  a  few  footlights  for 
inspiration,  and  Rachel's  sister,  Rebecca  Felix,  for 
prompter,  Fechter  began  Seide,  —  the  same  role  which 
he  had  rehearsed  at  the  Conservatoire,  and  again 
selected  because  of  its  scope  for  the  display  of  human 


20 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


passions.  Slavery,  religious  fanaticism,  and  love  make 
up  a  character  of  flesh  and  blood  very  difficult  to  de- 
lineate, but  entirely  in  sympathy  with  a  mind  like  Fech- 
ter's,  that  sought  for  nature  in  everything  it  attempted 
to  grasp.  Few  of  the  French  classical  plays  possess 
the  humanity  of  "Mahomet,"  and  it  is  significant  that 
from  the  outset  Fechter  recognized  the  power  of  real 
"situations."  Singularly  enough  Talma  selected  the 
same  role  for  his  debut,  —  a  fact  unknowoi  to  Fechter, 
and  therefore  suggestive  of  rapport  between  the  two 
minds. 

Fechter  had  not  recited  more  than  half  of  Seide 
when  a  voice  from  out  the  darkness  exclaimed,  "  That 
will  do  ;  now  for  comedy."  Once  more  bracing  him- 
self to  the  task,  he  began  the  light-comedy  part  of 
Valere,  the  lover  in  Moliere's  "  Tartuffe."  Again,  when 
half-way  through,  the  unknown  voice  broke  the  gloomy 
silence  with,  "  That  will  do  ;  call  another,"  —  and  Fech- 
ter bowed  himself  off  the  stage,  utterly  ignorant  of  the 
effect  produced  upon  the  jury  ;  but  before  leaving  the 
theatre  he  overheard  the  dismissal  of  his  successor,  a 
woman,  without  any  trial  in  comedy.  "  At  least  I  have 
received  better  treatment  than  she,"  thought  Fechter; 
and  la)ing  this  flattering  unction  to  his  soul  he  went 
back  to  his  studio  in  the  Rue  Paradis  des  Poisson- 
nieres. 

Left  in  uncertainty,  Fechter  led  a  divided  life  be- 
tween studying  for  the  stage  and  modelling.  Racine, 
Corneille,  and  Voltaire  shared  the  honors  with  the 
"Seven  Capital  Sins,"  —  the  subject  he  had  selected 
to  put  into  clay.     These  Capital  Sins  were  to  be  rep- 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER.  2 1 

resented  around  the  same  table,  seated  or  otherwise, 
according  to  individual  character,  and  carrying  out 
the  dominant  passion  in  action  and  facial  expression. 
Surely  a  good  idea,  but  immensely  difficult  of  treat- 
ment. It  was  because  of  its  difficulty  that  Fechter 
selected  the  subject ;  and  who  can  tell  how  great  a 
sculptor  posterity  has  lost  ? 

Three  months  passed  by,  and,  hearing  nothing  from 
the  Tht^atre  Frangais,  Fechter  was  again  about  to 
abandon  the  idea  of  acting,  when  a  dragoon  knocked 
at  his  door,  and  placed  two  official  documents  in  his 
hands.  The  first  announced  the  award  by  the  Acade- 
mic des  Beaux  Arts  of  the  first  grand  medal ;  the  sec- 
ond contained  a  call  for  Fechter's  d^but  at  the  Thea- 
tre Fran^ais  !  No  wonder  that  the  youth  of  nineteen 
had  an  acces  de  joie  at  this  embarrassment  of  riches. 
No  wonder  that  Fechter  pere  wellnigh  danced  with 
delight. 

The  prize  had  been  won ;  would  he  go  ?  "  No,  I 
cannot,"  said  the  son. 

"  You  must,"  replied  the  father. 

"  It  is  impossible,"  answered  the  son.  "  My  heart 
is  wedded  to  the  theatre." 

The  distress  of  Fechter  pcre  at  this  decision  caused 
young  Hotspur  to  relent  so  far  as  to  offer  to  risk  his 
future  on  a  fencing-match  with  his  father,  the  winner  to 
decide  whether  it  should  be  Rome  or  the  stage. 

"  No,  no,"  said  his  father,  "  I  '11  do  no  fencing,  for 
at  that  you  must  surely  win." 

"  Well,  then,  we  '11  toss  up  ;  heads  I  win,  tails  you 
lose." 


22       CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

To  this  the  father  consented.  Heads  won,  and  in 
December,  1844,  Fechter  made  his  debut  in  conjunc- 
tion with  Rebecca  Felix.  The  roles  were  Seide  and 
Valere,  for  which  he  had  but  one  rehearsal.  Rebecca 
F^lix  performed  the  part  of  Pahnire. 

From  the  beginning  Fechter  had  ideas  of  his  own ; 
and,  once  convinced  of  having  attained  the  tinith  ni  his 
art,  no  one  could  turn  him  from  his  purpose.  The  scene 
of  Voltaire's  "  Mahomet  "  is  laid  in  Mecca.  Seide,  Ma- 
honiefs  slave,  is  an  Arab,  and  should  be  dressed  like  an 
Arab,  precedents  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding.  So, 
armed  with  a  fine  Arab  costume  which  hung  in  his  stu- 
dio, Fechter  went  to  his  dressing-room  on  the  night  of 
his  debut.  There  on  a  chair  lay  the  properties  supplied 
for  Seide  by  the  theatre,  —  blue  and  white  satin,  to  con- 
trast with  the  pink  and  white  satin  of  Pahnire,  who, 
Arab  as  she  ought  to  look,  would  be  painted  red  and 
white,  like  the  fairest  of  Circassians  !  Stern  in  his 
resolve  Fechter  laid  aside  rouge,  whiting,  and  satin, 
gave  a  dark  olive  tint  to  his  complexion,  donned  his 
Arab  costume,  and  went  to  the  wings  to  await  his 
cue. 

"Mon  Dieu  !  what  horror  do  I  behold?"  screamed 
Geoffroy,  the  administrator  of  the  week.  "  ^^'hat 
do  you  mean  by  thus  insulting  established  custom? 
Off  with  the  vile  stuff !  Go  to  your  room  and  put  on 
the  proper  dress." 

Flying  from  Geofifroy's  rage  Fechter,  with  no  inten- 
tion of  obeying  orders,  retired  under  the  stage,  where 
he  remained  until  sought  for  by  the  call-boy,  when  he 
rushed  on  to  begin  the  second  act,  which  is  Seine's  first 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


23 


appearance.  A  murmur  ran  through  the  audience,  fol- 
lowed by  a  rustle  which  Fechter  took  for  disapproba- 
tion. In  an  agony  of  doubt  as  to  what  would  be  the 
result  of  his  temerity,  he  had  almost  lost  his  presence 
of  mind,  when  a  burst  of  applause  and  encouraging 
bravos  assured  him  of  sympathy  before,  if  not  behind, 
the  curtain. 

The  real  work  of  Seide  begins  with  the  fourth  act, 
where,  in  the  interview  with  Pabnirc,  the  slave  he 
loves,  not  knowing  her  to  be  his  sister,  he  reveals  the 
dreadful  oath  he  has  taken  to  ser\e  Maluvnet by  killing 
Zopire  (his  unknown  father),  to  whom  he  is  drawn  by 
an  unaccountable  sympathy.  This  passionate  dialogue, 
the  appearance  of  Zopire  kneeling  at  the  altar  of  his 
gods,  Seide' s  working  himself  up  to  the  requisite  amount 
of  frenzy  for  the  deed,  and  his  return  to  Palmire  after 
its  accomplishment,  wild  in  look  and  falling  from  ex- 
haustion, as  he  exclaims, 

"  Ou  suis-je  ?  et  quelle  voix  m'appelle  ? 
Je  ne  vols  point  Palmire  ;  un  dieu  m'a  prive  d'elle," 

were  a  revelation  to  the  spectators  of  the  Theatre  Fran- 
gais,  who  had  been  educated  on  declamation  and  pro- 
priety. Distracted  and  panting,  Seide  lay  upon  the 
ground,  giving  the  question,  "  Qui,  Zopire?"  in  answer 
to  that  oi  Palmire,  "Zopire,  a-t-il  perdu  la  vie?"  with 
a  start  and  a  heart-rending  voice  that  thrilled  the  spec- 
tators. 

"  Ah  !  grand  Dieu  !  Dieu  de  sang  altere, 
Ne  persecutez  point  son  esprit  egare. 
Fuyons  d'ici ! " 


24  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECLITER. 

exclaims  Palmire.  Here  Seide  tried  to  rise,  but  fall- 
ing on  his  knees, 

"  Je  sens  que  mes  genoux  s  'affaissent," 

delivered  the  confession  of  his  crime,  half  rechning  and 
half  kneeling,  not  regaining  sufficient  strength  to  stand 
until  the  whole  is  told.  No  wonder  that  the  public, 
accustomed  to  see  SHde  obey  Voltaire's  printed  "  busi- 
ness "  {II  s''assicd),  and  sit  on  a  chair  in  true  Oriental 
fashion,  lost  all  sense  of  decorum,  and  actually  called  out 
the  real  Arab  at  the  end  of  this  act.  This  was  a  rare 
compliment  for  those  days  and  never  before  known  in 
"  Mahomet."  No  less  effective  was  Fechter  in  the  last 
act,  where,  coming  on  delirious  with  poison  adminis- 
tered unknown  to  him  by  Mahojnefs  orders,  Seide  calls 
upon  the  people  to  avenge  Zopire's  death,  denounces 
Mahomet,  and  dies  in  the  arms  of  his  followers.  Years 
before,  this  scene  had  been  cut  out  on  account  of  its 
difficulty,  but  Fechter  had  stomach  for  it  all ;  and,  when 
the  curtain  fell,  his  debut  was  pronounced  the  success 
of  the  night.  Rachel  came  to  him,  saying  "  You  must 
act  in  niy  pieces  ;  I  will  play  with  nobody  else." 

Fechter  selected  Valere  for  his  debut  in  comed)'', 
because  it  gave  him  time  to  rest,  VaVerc  not  appearing 
until  act  second,  and  because  it  w-as  short.  There  is 
really  only  one  good  scene,  quite  enough  however  to 
prove  cajDacity,  which  was  all  that  the  occasion  de- 
manded. Again  Fechter  made  a  revolution  in  cos- 
tume, wearing  the  dress  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth's  time, 
the  scene  of  "  Tartuffe  "  being  laid  in  the  Paris  of  le 
grand  monarque.     Heretofore  the   costume   had   not 


/^.  ,.^^^J>'^ 


^^c^ 


^::i>i-t.<.-^i-e^ 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER.  25 

been  strictly  correct.  The  curtain  fell  upon  a  second 
success.  Fechter  had  won  his  spurs  in  tragedy  and 
comedy  —  in  Voltaire  and  Moliere  —  on  the  classic 
stage  of  the  Theatre  Fran9ai3,  and  had  already  gained 
Rachel's  good  will.  Human  nature  is  weak,  artists  are 
sadly  jealous,  and  perhaps  it  is  not  strange  that  old  so- 
cietaires  looked  with  ill  favor  upon  the  youth  of  nine- 
teen who  had  jumped  so  suddenly  into  popularity.  It 
was  easy  to  reap  a  pitiful  harvest  of  revenge ;  so  the 
following  week  when  Fechter  went  upon  the  stage  to 
rehearse  Ciiriace  in  Corneille's  "  Les  Horaces "  and 
Dorante  in  "  Le  Menteur,"  which  parts  he  had  chosen 
for  his  second  d^but,  he  found  himself  without  support. 
Righteously  indignant  at  this  unseemly  slight,  Fechter 
left  word  that  he  would  act  in  neither  piece,  and  the 
manager  might  get  somebody  else.  Later  entreaty 
availed  naught ;  old  societaires  assumed  their  old  rules 
and  the  debut  was  postponed  another  week. 

What  said  Jules  Janin,  the  prince  of  dramatic  critics, 
the  man  who  could  not  be  bought  with  money,  but 
who  revenged  himself  upon  such  artists  as  did  not 
pay  him  court?  "Bravo  I  bravissimo  I  "  murmured 
Janin  in  private ;  "  come  and  see  me,  Fechter." 
Quixotically  independent  and  indifferent  to  the  ver- 
dict of  critics,  Fechter  offended  Janin's  amour  propre 
by  staying  away.  So  the  fcuilleton  that  followed  the 
representations  of  ''  Les  Horaces  "  and  "  Le  Menteur," 
in  both  of  which  Fechter  was  supposed  to  have  ap- 
peared, but  which  he  threw  up  as  has  already  been 
told,  contained  a  most  savage  onslaught  upon  Fechter's 
Curiace  and  Dorante.     The  actor  had  his  critic  com- 


26       CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

pletely  on  the  hip,  but  took  no  further  ad\-antage  than 
to  \\Tite  the  following  private  note  :  — 

"■  Dear  J-A>tx,  —  Your  criticism  is  excellent :  true 
in  every  particular,  except  in  attributing  the  acting  of 
Curiace  and  Doraiiie  to  me.  I  performed  in  neither 
part!'' 

In  the  next  week's  feuilleton  the  impartial  critic 
stated  that,  ownng  to  gross  carelessness,  his  manuscript 
had  been  misprinted.  His  remarks  apropos  of  Mr. 
Fechter  were  intended  for  his  rehearsal,  and  not  for 
the  performance,  in  which  other  artists  had  appeared. 
It  was  quite  e\-ident  from  this  second  falsehood  that 
Janin  meant  war  to  the  knife  ;  so  Fechter  returned  the 
blow  by  pubUcly  stating  that,  inasmuch  as  he  had  never 
rehearsed  the  parts  criticised  by  ]M.  Jules  Janin,  the 
explanation  of  the  latter  could  hardly  be  called  satis- 
factory !  After  this  terrible  and  justifiable  expose,  what 
was  left  for  Janin  but  silence?  And  silence  was  his 
enduring  revenge.  Even  after  Fechter's  mar\-eUous 
success  in  "La  Dame  aux  Camehas  "  Janin  made  but  a 
passing  notice  of  his  name,  which  was  recorded  among 
the  supernumeraries.  In  Paris,  as  well  as  in  America, 
personalit}'  degrades  art. 

The  young  Seide  had  not  been  three  weeks  a  pen- 
sionnaire  at  the  Theatre  Francais  before  he  broke  an 
audacious  lance  in  behalf  of  republican  institutions. 
Entering  the  green-room  for  the  first  time,  he  saw 
all  the  societaires  ranged  on  one  side  of  the  fireplace 
and  the  pensionnaires  on  the  other.     The  former  re- 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


27 


ceived  their  appointment  originally  from  the  first  Na- 
poleon, who  accorded  to  the  Theatre  Fran^ais  a  yeai-ly 
subvention  of  sixteen  thousand  pounds  sterling.  Since 
then  societaires  have  been  elected  by  their  own  body. 
They  divide  the  profits  of  the  theatre  among  them- 
selves, —  at  the  end  of  twenty  years  can  retire  on  a  pen- 
sion of  five  thousand  dollars,  or,  remaining  longer  in 
the  profession,  are  entitled  to  a  still  larger  pension. 
Thus  does  France  foster  art.  Societaires  consequently 
hold  the  reins  in  their  owti  hands  ;  while  petisiofi/iaires, 
being  on  a  salary  and  lower  in  official  grade,  are  made 
to  feel  the  difference  between  the  throne  and  the  step 
leading  to  it.  "  What 's  the  meaning  of  this  ?  "  asked 
Fechter.  "  Why  are  all  the  societaires  in  one  row  and 
the  pensionnaires  in  another?  Is  there  no  equality 
among  artists  ?  "  With  this  the  young  democrat  sprang 
from  one  side  of  the  wide  fireplace  to  the  other  and, 
landing  among  the  societaires,  began  talking  to  Beau- 
vallet  as  if  nothing  unusual  had  occurred,  and  as  if 
pensionnaires  had  a  right  to  trespass  upon  sacred 
ground. 

Fechter's  second  debuts,  when  he  appeared  in  "  Les 
Horaces"  with  Rachel,  and  in  "  Le  Menteur,"  were 
received  with  plaudits.  In  the  comedy  Fechter  again 
taught  actors  and  public  a  lesson  by  wearing  a  thor- 
oughly correct  Charles-the-Second  dress.  So  pro- 
nounced was  the  success  that  then  and  there  Fechter 
became  a  regular  member  of  the  Theatre  Fran^ais,  the 
high  powers  not  deeming  it  necessary  to  await  his 
third  debuts.  La  Rue  being  lazy  and  Maillard  ill, 
Fechter  at  first  had  many  opportunities  of  testing  his 


28       CHARLES  ALBERT  FE CUTER. 

ability.  Rachel's  desires  were  fulfilled,  and  she  found 
wonderful  support  in  the  strijDling  who,  ignoring 
precedents,  made  human  beings  of  Hippolyte,  Oresfe, 
Xip/iares,  Bajazet,  and  Nerestan.  It  was  at  the 
conclusion  of  "  Zaire "  that  Regnier  came  behind  the 
scenes  and,  addressing  the  assembled  societaires,  ex- 
claimed "  Now  mark  my  words.  I  tell  you  that  he  is 
better  than  any  of  you."  Such  outspoken  criticism 
was  not  likely  to  promote  the  interests  of  a  beginner 
who  was  himself  none  too  politic.  Moreover  Buloz 
had  private  reasons  for  advancing  a  vastly  inferior 
actor,  and  Fechter  was  soon  made  to  feel  the  differ- 
ence between  favoritism  and  real  worth.  Appearing  in 
the  comedies  of  "Valerie,"  "  Les  Femmes  Savantes," 
"  Les  Precieuses  Ridicules,"  "  Le  Depit,"  "  Le  Manage 
Parisien,"  "  Le  Misanthrope,"  "  Tartuffe,"  "  Les  Four- 
beries  de  Scapin,"  and  "  La  Vestale,"  he  at  last  found 
himself  shorn  of  almost  every  part  rightfully  his  own. 
Notwithstanding  that  Dumas  pere  \\Tote  the  prom- 
inent male  character  in  "  La  Fille  du  Regent  "  for 
Fechter,  and  spoke  of  having  done  so,  when  the 
play  came  to  be  cast  Fechter  found  a  part  in  the  pro- 
logue assigned  to  him.  Easy  in  his  principles,  Dumas 
had  been  talked  over  by  Buloz  and  others. 

Though  Fechter  had  a  right  to  a  third  d^but  with  his 
own  selection  of  parts,  though  it  is  a  rule  that  every 
debutant  shall  perform  the  parts  of  every  d^but  at  least 
twice  during  his  first  year,  or  whenever  the  plays  are 
brought  out,  these  rights  were  denied.  Fechter  felt 
that  the  societaires  never  intended  to  give  him  fair  play  ; 
and  when,  at  the  beginning  of  1846,  the  salary  of  every 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER. 


29 


pensiounaire  except  himself  was  raised,  the  intention 
could  not  be  mistaken.  After  appealing  in  \-ain  for 
justice  Fechter  frankly  avowed  his  opinion,  and  at  the 
end  of  eighteen  months  left  the  theatre  in  a  glory  of 
indignation.  A  man  of  less  spirit  and  more  phlegm 
might  have  known  better  how  to  subvert  the  machina- 
tions of  rivals  ;  but  in  all  probability  a  man  of  less  spirit 
would  not  have  been  so  good  an  actor,  and  therefore 
could  not  have  fared  so  ill.  Extraordinary  ability  is  a 
dangerous  possession,  unless  it  be  master  of  the  situ- 
ation and  be  tempered  with  wisdom.  Wisdom  and 
Fechter  were  never  boon  companions.  Thus  closed 
Fechter's  career  at  the  Theatre  Fran^ais. 

With  illusions  gone,  with  aspirations  clouded,  Fech- 
ter returned  to  his  studio  for  the  fourth  time,  and  be- 
took himself  to  modelling.  Once  more  he  went  to 
work  upon  the  Seven  Capital  Sins,  and  it  is  safe  to 
conclude  that  he  put  a  great  deal  of  devilish  expression 
into  the  flice  of  Envy.  "  Theatres  !  "  he  said  ;  "  never 
say  Theatre  to  me.  I  've  done  with  the  stage.  Hence- 
forth I  am  a  sculptor."  And  so  the  actor  believed ;  but 
Fate  knew  better.  One  day  it  chanced  —  as  it  always 
chances,  in  life  as  well  as  in  books  —  that  Dacier,  the 
celebrated  baritone,  brought  St.  Aubin,  once  leading 
actor  at  the  Gymnase  and  then  manager  of  the  Berlin 
Theatre  Royal,  to  Fechter's  studio  for  the  purpose  of 
seeing  his  statue.  "  By  the  way,"  said  St.  Aubin,  "are 
you  related  to  Fechter  of  the  Theatre  Frangais,  about 
whom  I  've  heard  so  much?  " 

"  Well,  rather,"  replied  the  sculptor ;  "  I  am  that 
identical  individual." 


30 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


"  Is  it  possible  ?  Then  how  is  it  that  you  are  at  work 
here?" 

"  For  the  reason  that  I  have  renounced  the  stage. 
I  shall  never  act  again." 

"  AMiat,  you  ?  the  most  promising  man  of  the  day  ? 
This  wiU  never  do.  Come  with  me  to  Berhn.  I  am 
forming  a  company  for  the  Theatre  Royal ;  you  shall 
have  just  the  parts  you  Hke,  and  as  you  will  be  paid  by 
the  government,  you  need  have  no  fear  on  the  score  of 
money." 

Fechter  accepted  this  offer ;  the  Seven  Capital  Sins 
were  once  more  wTapped  in  wet  cloths,  and  \nth  the 
agility  of  Harlequin  the  sculptor  transformed  himself 
into  an  actor.  There  was  nothing  that  Fechter  did  not 
do  in  Berlin.  He  was  everything  by  turns  and  nothing 
long.  He  was  the  best  actor  in  the  troupe  "  either  for 
traged}",  comedy,  history,  pastoral,  pastoral-comical, 
historical-comical,  scene  indindable,  or  poem  unlim- 
ited." He  had  a  fine  robust  tenor  voice,  and  sang, 
entirely  by  ear,  the  music  of  Daftiel  in  the  opera  of 
'■'  Le  Chalet."  He  played  Paul  Taglioni's  ballet  of  "  Le 
Corsair,"  and  executed  the  dances  with  admirable  ef- 
fect. He  made  a  great  success  as  Le  Fere  Turliil- 
tiitu,  in  "  One  Hundred  Years  Old,"  and  still  another 
in  doubling  Buckingham  and  Tyrrell  in  ''  Les  Enfants 
d'Edouard,"  a  piece  taken  fi-om  Shakespeare's  '"  Rich- 
ard in."  Fechter  was  so  entirely  transformed  in  the 
second  assumption  that  the  public  failed  to  recognize 
him  until  the  end  of  the  act. 

Being  a  very  devout  Catholic  the  Queen  abstained 
from  theatrical  performances,  but  after  repeated  en- 


CHARLES  ALBERT  EEC  LITER. 


31 


treaty  from  the  King,  with  whom  Fechter  was  a  great 
favorite,  she  consented  to  assist  at  a  court  representa- 
tion at  Potsdam  of  Bayard  and  Melesville's  comedy  "  Le 
Chevalier  de  St.  George,"  and  Dupin's  "  La  Polka  en 
Province."  Reaching  high-water  mark,  Fechter  de- 
lighted the  court.  In  the  afterpiece  Fechter's  comedy 
was  so  inimitable  that  the  King  sent  his  chamberlain 
behind  the  scenes  to  request  him  to  be  less  funny, 
—  otherwise  his  Majesty  would  die.  Misunderstanding 
the  message,  and  seeing  that  the  King  enjoyed  the  per- 
formance, Fechter  became  more  and  more  comical, 
until  royalty'  degenerated  into  base  humanity  and  was 
carried  out  of  his  box  in  a  state  of  exhaustion  from 
laughing.  The  Queen  expressed  her  admiration  in 
an  autograph  letter,  accompanied  by  busts  of  Schiller, 
Goethe,  and  Herder.  Not  to  be  outdone,  Fechter 
modelled  a  Sister  of  Charity  kneeling  at  prayer,  and 
sent  it  to  the  Queen,  who  placed  the  artist's  gift  in  the 
Royal  Gallen,-,  where  it  still  remains. 

After  an  unusually  prolonged  and  successful  season 
of  nine  months  Fechter  returned  to  Paris  in  1847,  ^^i^ 
immediately  signed  an  engagement  for  three  years  at 
the  Vaudeville,  where  he  looked  forward  to  a  reign  of 
peace.  The  manager  was  all  grace,  the  public  all 
smiles  ;  and  his  rendering  of  the  hero  Albert  in  "  Mar- 
guerite "  received  the  approving  nod  of  claque  and 
critics.  About  two  weeks  after  its  production  the  man- 
ager went  to  Fechter  and  with  simulated  enthusiasm 
exclaimed  :  "  My  dear  fellow,  your  performance  was 
admirable.  You  are  the  only  man  to  replace  Frederic 
Lemaitre.     I  must  make  another  engagement  with  you. 


32 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


The  present  one  is  not  equal  to  your  merits.  Give  me 
the  old  contract,  and  I  '11  have  a  better  one  made  out." 
Dumfounded  at  this  excess  of  virtue,  and  not  suspect- 
ing foul  play,  Fechter  complied  with  the  request. 
However,  after  waiting  a  reasonable  time  and  waiting 
in  \-ain,  he  ventured  to  ask  for  the  new  contract.  Mr. 
Manager  coolly  ignored  it.  An  unworthy  power  behind 
the  managerial  desk  had  instigated  the  treachery  and 
caused  the  \mtten  articles  to  be  destroyed. 

Stung  to  the  quick  by  this  baseness,  and  able  to  pro- 
duce witnesses  to  the  existence  of  a  contract,  Fechter 
had  about  decided  to  go  to  law,  when  he  met  an  old 
artist  friend,  Anthony  Beraud,  who  was  manager  of  the 
Ambigu.  "Why,  what's  the  matter,  Fechter?"  in- 
quired the  latter;  "you  look  upset." 

"  Upset !  I  should  rather  think  I  was."  And  then 
followed  a  narration  of  what  had  occurred. 

"  Now  take  my  advice,"  said  the  manager,  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  woful  stor}\  "  Don't  go  to  law,  but 
come  to  my  theatre.  I  '11  double  your  present  salary, 
and  bind  myself  by  more  writing  than  you  '11  care  to 
read." 

"  Agreed,"  cried  Fechter  ;  and  the  threatening  clouds 
disappeared. 

Prior  to  this  engagement  Fechter  went  to  London 
with  a  troupe  of  admirable  artists,  including  Boc- 
cage,  Cartigny,  Montalent,  Josset,  Mademoiselle  Bap- 
tiste  (granddaughter  of  the  great  Baptiste),  and  others. 
The  season  at  the  St.  James's  lasted  four  months,  during 
which  time  Fechter  appeared  in  standard  plays,  the 
most  prominent   being   Sophocles's    "  Antigone."      It 


CHARLES  ALBERT  EEC  LITER. 


II 


was  brought  out  with  great  care,  and  excited  unusual 
attention.  The  Queen  and. Prince  Consort  were  con- 
stant in  their  attendance,  not  being  absent  more  than 
twenty  nights.  D'Orsay  was  seen  constantly,  and  with 
him  Louis  Napoleon,  who  made  Fechter's  acquaint- 
ance and  often  went  behind  the  scenes  to  compli- 
ment his  countryman.  Upon  bidding  Fechter  good- 
by  Napoleon  seemed  much  touched  at  the  thought  of 
his  own  continued  exile  from  France,  and  said,  "  The 
next  time  we  meet  will  be  in  the  Tuileries." 

"That  is  somewhat  doubtful,"  answered  Fechter, 
"for  I  really  do  not  intend  to  be  King." 

"AT;,"  replied  the  man  of  destiny,  "but  I  intend  to 
be  Emperor  I''' 

To  smile  was  impossible.  Napoleon's  tone  and  man- 
ner were  such  as  to  convince  Fechter  that  an  oracle 
had  spoken,  and  when  the  Prince  became  President  of 
the  Republic,  Fechter  knew  how  the  drama  would  end. 
Napoleon  was  right.  The  next  time  they  met  was  in 
the  Tuileries,  and  when  Fechter  acted  at  Fontainebleau, 
the  Emperor  took  off  his  watch  and  chain  and  begged 
the  artist's  acceptance  of  them. 

Fechter  made  so  strong  an  impression  in  London 
that  Maddox,  manager  of  the  Princess's,  went  to  him 
with  an  offer  of  forty  pounds  per  week  for  three  years 
if  he  would  appear  on  the  English  stage.  This  was  a 
large  salary  for  those  days  and  the  joung  artist  felt 
greatly  inclined  to  accept  it,  but  there  rose  before 
him  the  promise  to  his  friend  of  the  Ambigu.  He 
wrote  to  be  released,  if  release  were  possible.  "  Impos- 
sible," was  the  reply.     "  Sue  and  others  are  ^^Titing 


34       CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

plays  for  you,  and  I  cannot  let  you  go."  So  toward 
the  end  of  February,  1848,  Fechter  returned  to  Paris 
with  the  expectation  of  fulfilling  this  engagement,  mak- 
ing his  entree  in  a  new  play,  "  La  Famille  Thureau," 
the  first  and  only  production  of  an  eccentric  painter, 
Lorentz.  During  the  performance  of  "  La  Famille 
Thureau,"  the  story  of  which  is  not  unlike  that  of  "  La 
Dame  aux  Cam^lias,"  Fechter,  while  engaged  in  a 
dialogue  of  twelve  or  fifteen  minutes,  modelled  a  statue 
of  Poetry,  three  feet  high.  Fair  as  the  prospect  was,  it 
did  not  long  continue.  A  Revolution  came  between 
him  and  public  attention ;  and  as  the  real  drama  sur- 
passed in  interest  any  that  could  be  feigned,  the  Am- 
bigu,  following  the  example  of  other  theatres,  closed 
after  a  season  of  twelve  nights.  Freed  from  obligations 
Fechter  wrote  to  Maddox,  accepting  his  former  offer, 
but  the  letter  arrived  too  late.  The  enterprising  man- 
ager had  already  engaged  an  opera  troupe,  which 
absorbed  his  time  and  money. 

Othello's  occupation  gone,  Fechter  solaced  himself 
with  fencing  and  shooting.  In  those  days  of  anarchy 
no  man  knew  what  destiny  lay  in  wait  for  him,  and  dis- 
cretion led  to  anticipation  of  the  worst.  So  Fechter 
fenced  and  fired  himself  into  an  enviable  notoriety. 
No  one  dared  to  quarrel  with  him,  lest  a  duel  might  be 
the  consequence.  Rochefort  always  referred  to  him 
with  deference,  and  bullies  gave  him  a  wide  berth. 
While  Fechter  was  thus  vigorously  engaged  Adrien 
Decourcelles  went  to  him,  saying,  "  I  've  just  wTitten 
a  reactionary  play  called  '  Oscar  XXVIIL,'  which  if 
possible  I  want  to  have  performed.     You  are  the  only 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FE CUTER. 


35 


man  who  has  pluck  enough  to  brave  the  crowd.  I  've 
burlesqued  the  Revolution.  I  anticipate  what  will  most 
certainly  happen  months  hence ;  and  if  you  and  I  can 
show  the  people  themselves,  as  they  are  and  must  be,  it 
will  be  a  great  feather  in  our  caps."  Fechter  read  the 
play,  sympathized  with  the  travesty  of  royalty  on  the 
one  side  and  mad  democracy  on  the  other,  and  with 
his  usual  daring  consented  to  play  "  Oscar  XX\^IIL" 
The  next  step  was  to  secure  a  theatre,  and  they  ap- 
pealed to  Moran  of  the  Varietes. 

"  But  you  '11  have  the  theatre  down,"  argued  the 
timid  manager. 

"Yes,  that's  one  side  of  the  argument,"  replied 
author  and  actor ;  "  but,  on  the  other  hand,  you  may 
make  a  great  deal  of  money.  Your  theatre  is  closed. 
Here  is  an  opportunity  of  turning  an  ill  wind  to  good 
account.  If  you  don't  seize  it,  some  other  theatre 
will." 

Persuaded  in  spite  of  himself,  Moran  consented  to 
the  production  of  "Oscar  XXVIII."  On  the  first 
night  none  but  members  of  the  press  were  present ; 
nevertheless,  Moran  could  not  be  found.  Antici- 
pating trouble  he  had  left  Fechter  and  Decouf- 
celles  to  bear  the  onus  of  it,  instead  of  which  they 
received  the  plaudits  of  a  non-paying  but  appreciative 
audience. 

A  few  hours  acquainted  Paris  with  the  nature  of  the 
entertainment,  and  for  two  months,  during  the  turbu- 
lent summer  of  1848,  "Oscar  XXVIII."  laughed  in 
the  face  of  the  Revolution,  and  drew  crowded  audiences 
of  reactionists.  Instead  of  assaults  upon  the  actors, 
3 


36  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECLLTER. 

there  were  occasional  combats  among  the  spectators, 
at  which  times  Fechter  dehv'ered  impromptu  addresses 
upon  the  folly  of  useless  expenditure  of  force  in  the 
presence  of  a  play  brought  out  for  the  express  pur- 
pose of  putting  the  people  on  exhibition.  "  Only 
keep  the  peace  and  we  '11  show  you  just  how  it  ought 
to  be  done,"  said  Fechter;  and,  taken  aback  by  his 
audacity  and  wit,  the  combatants  were  wont  to  sit 
down  and  look  at  their  own  portraits.  Nine  months 
later  the  burlesque  of  "Oscar  XXVIII."  became  a 
positive  reality.  Decourcelles  and  Fechter  had  merely 
anticipated  history. 

Later  in  this  year  Fechter  fulfilled  an  engagement  at 
the  Theatre  Historique,  performing  Dumas's  rhymed 
tragedy  of  "Charles  VII.,"  his  drama  of  "Angele," 
and  bringing  out  for  the  first  time  Dumas  and  Ma- 
quet's  "■  Catilina,"  and  Paul  Feval's  "  ]\Iysteres  de 
Londres." 

1849  found  him  again  at  the  Ambigu,  during  which 
twelve  months  he  created  no  less  than  seven  characters 
of  totally  different  types,  the  pieces  being  Fournier's 
"  Pardon  de  Bretagne,"  Paul  Feval's  "  IMauvais  Coeur," 
Charles  Desnoyer's  comedy  of  "  Les  Trois  Etages," 
L^on  Gozlan's  "Jeunesse  Dor^e,"  Masson's  "Les  Fils 
Aymon,"  Bourgeois's  "Notre  Dame  de  Paris,"  and 
Labrousse's  "  Louis  the  Fourteenth."  In  the  last, 
Fechter,  in  the  hero  who  attempts  to  save  the  Queen, 
assumed  seven  different  characters  and  surprised  the 
audience  by  his  wonderful  "  make-ups,"  being  es- 
pecially effective  as  a  cab-driver.  When  the  "  Courier 
of  Lyons  "  was  brought  out  at  the  Gaiet^  a  year  later. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


17 


Paulin  Mcnier  made  an  exact  copy  of  Fechter's  cab- 
driver,  and  gained  a  success  thereby. 

1850  and  1 85 1  were  equally  divided  between  the 
Theatre  Historique  and  the  Porte-Saint-Martin.  In 
this  time  Dumas's  "  Pauline  "  and  "  Corsican  Broth- 
ers," Bulwer's  "  Money,"  Emile  Souvestre's  "  Le  Lion 
et  le  Moucheron,"  De  Montdpin's  "  Le  Vol  a  la 
Duchesse,"  George  Sand's  "  Claudie,"  and  Thiboust's 
"  Le  Diable "  were  first  put  upon  the  stage.  The 
"  Corsican  Brothers "  ran  for  one  hundred  nights ; 
while  "  Money,"  though  pronounced  a  great  artistic 
success,  only  held  the  stage  forty  nights.  It  was  too 
high  comedy  for  a  melodramatic  theatre.  "  Claudie," 
at  the  Porte-Saint- Martin,  rivalled  the  "  Corsican  Broth- 
ers "  in  the  length  of  its  popularity,  whereby  "  hangs  a 
tale."  When  the  drama  was  first  read  Boccage,  to 
whom  belonged  the  leading  role,  that  of  an  old  man, 
went  to  Fechter  saying,  "  We  can  offer  you  nothing  in 
'  Claudie,'  as  I  have  the  first  part,  and  no  other  is 
good  enough  for  you." 

"  On  the  contrar)',"  rejoined  Fechter,  "  I  have  taken 
a  fancy  to  the  ploughboy." 

"  What,  the  third  part  in  the  piece  ?  " 
"  Never  mind,  we  '11  see  what  can  be  made  of  it." 
So  "  Claudie "  was  mounted,  and  Madame  Sand 
came  from  Nohant  to  assist  at  the  dress  rehearsal. 
At  the  end  of  the  first  act  Fechter  overheard  an  excited 
dialogue  between  Madame  Sand  and  Boccage  in  the 
dressing-room  adjoining  his  own. 

"It  will  kill  'Claudie,'"  said  Madame  Sand.  "I 
will  not  permit  such  an  outrage.  If  you  allow  that  man 
to  act  I  '11  withdraw  the  play." 


38 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


"But,  my  dear  madame,"  retorted  Boccage,  "you 
don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about.  That  man,  as 
you  call  him,  is  doing  you  a  great  honor.  He  has 
taken  an  inferior  part  out  of  compliment  to  you,  and 
will  act  it  as  no  one  else  can.  ^ly  advice  to  you  is  to 
keep  quiet." 

But  Madame  Sand  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  this  advice, 
and  with  threats  upon  her  lips  left  Boccage  to  his  own 
reflections. 

"What's  the  matter,  Boccage?"  asked  Fechtec,  as 
soon  as  the  lady  had  retired. 

"  Why,  that  fooHsh  woman  says  you  sha'  n't  play  in 
'  Claudie.'  She 's  made  a  ploughboy,  and  is  very 
much  disgusted  with  you  because  you  dress  him  in 
peasant's  clothes  and  give  him  a  patois.^'' 

"  Ver)'^  well,"  answered  Fechter,  "'  then  /  refuse  the 
part.     I  won't  go  on  with  the  rehearsal." 

"  But  we  are  lost  if  you  don't.  For  my  sake,  pay  no 
attention  to  her,  and  go  through  your  part." 

Gradually  soothed  into  complaisance,  Fechter  put 
on  his  street  dress,  spoke  the  purest  of  French,  and  at 
the  close  of  the  next  act  Madame  Sand  exclaimed  : 
""\Miat  a  charming  young  man  !  Why  did  he  not  look 
and  act  this  way  before  ?  " 

Fechter  had  made  a  gentleman  of  her  ploughboy. 

"  Now,"  said  Fechter,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  re- 
hearsal, "  if  I  can  't  do  that  part  as  I  feel  it  ought  to  be 
done,  I  won't  appear  at  all.  Madame  Sand  can  write, 
but  she  has  proved  that  she  does  n't  know  the  meaning 
of  acting.  She  has  insulted  me,  and  I  've  done  with 
her." 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIIIER.  3^ 

Of  course  much  expostulation  ensued,  and  it  was 
finally  decided  that,  Madame  Sand  to  the  contrary 
notwithstanding,  Fechter  should  have  his  own  way,  by 
which  he  made  the  success  of  the  play.  •  "  Take  me  to 
him,"  exclaimed  Madame  Sand  when  the  curtain  fell 
upon  the  first  night  of  "  Claudie,"  —  "  take  me  to  him, 
that  I  may  know  him." 

"  I  refuse  to  know  Madame  Sand,"  was  Fechter's 
answer  to  this  message.  ''Vou  need  not  bring  her. 
I  do  not  forget  an  insult." 

Madame  Sand  did  not  obtain  her  introduction  ;  and 
when  she  wrote  "  Mauprat "  especially  for  the  man 
whom  she  declared  would  kill  "  Claudie,"  the  foolishly 
proud  actor  refused  to  accept  his  part. 

The  production  of  "  Le  Diable  "  being  assigned  to 
Fechter,  he  designed  the  dresses,  read  the  play  to  the 
actors,  supenntended  the  rehearsals,  and  brought  it  ont 
five  days  after  receiving  the  manuscript.  It  was  at  this 
theatre  also  that  Fechter  gave  up  thirty  thousand  francs 
of  salary  to  minor  actors  who  were  suffering  in  conse- 
quence of  the  manager's  failure  during  the  engagement 
of  another  artist. 

The  next  six  years  —  from  1852  to  185S  —  Fechter 
was  the  star  of  the  Vaudeville,  where  ten  new  plays 
were  produced  in  which  he  personated  the  hero.  These 
creations  were  Gozlan's  "  Le  Coucher  d'une  Etoile  " 
and  "  Louise  de  Nauteuil,"  Bayard's  "  Hortense  de 
Ceruy"  and  "  Les  Contes  de  Boccace,"  Dumas's  "  La 
Dame  aux  Camdlias,"  Barri^re's  "  Les  Filles  de  Mar- 
bre,"  '*  La  Vie  en  Rose,"  and  "  On  Demande  un  Gou- 
verneur,"   Scribe's   "  La   Fille   de   Trente   Ans,"   and 


40 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


Maquet's  "  Les  Dettes  de  Coeur."  Successful  in  all, 
Fechter  made  a  great  impression  in  a  very  difficult  role 
in  "  Hortense  de  Ceruy."  This,  however,  was  eclipsed 
by  the  furore  he  created  in  "  La  Dame  aux  Came'lias." 
Fechter  objected  to  the  fourth  act  of  this  play  as  origi- 
nally written,  and  suggested  certain  changes  of  situation 
and  dialogue,  to  which  Dumas  at  first  willingly  assented, 
but  over  which  he  grew  exceedingly  nervous  as  the  trial 
night  approached. 

"  If  my  play  is  a  failure  I  '11  lay  the  blame  on  you," 
said  Dumas  to  Fechter. 

"  Nous  verrons,"  responded  the  actor. 

The  curtain  went  up,  the  curtain  went  down,  and  the 
fourth  act  was  over.  "  What  mean  that  noise  and  tre- 
mendous applause?"  asked  Fechter  of  himself.  "Is 
it  a  failure  ?     Is  it  disapprobation  ?  " 

"Fechter,  Fechter,  you  have  made  a  sensation  ;  you 
are  called  !  "  And  the  Vaudeville  witnessed  an  expres- 
sion of  unexampled  enthusiasm.  The  chef  of  the  claque 
came  behind  the  scenes,  in  great  trepidation.  "  It 
wasn't  I!"  he  cried.  "It  was  not  my  doing.  The 
people  did  it,  tell  the  manager.  I  tried  to  keep 
applause  back  for  the  last  act,  but  they  would  have 
their  own  way."  Dumas  hurried  to  Fechter  and  clasped 
him  in  his  arms ;  while  Madame  Doche,  who  had  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  sensation  of  this  act,  clever  as 
she  was  in  what  followed,  calmly  remarked  :  "  Ah  oui. 
II  m'a  bien  seconde  !  " 

This  play  ran  for  upwards  of  three  hundred  nights, 
and  whether  Doche,  Jeanne  Essler,  or  others  person- 
ated the  heroine,  the  success,  with  Fechter  as  Armatid^ 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


41 


was  equally  great.     What  Dumas  thought,  al)  who  read 
may  learn  :  — 

"  Thanks  to  Fechter.  What  can  I  say  of  him  that 
all  the  world  does  not  say  and  know  ?  Fechter  is  the 
most  youthful,  most  ardent,  most  enthusiastic,  most 
insinuating  of  artists.  What  variety  of  talents,  what 
unpretending  skill  in  conception,  what  marvellous, 
thrilling,  electric  execution  !  Be  it  m  '  Mauvais 
Coeur '  at  the  Ambigu,  in  the  '  Corsican  Brothers '  at 
the  Theatre  Historique,  in  'Claudie'  at  the  Porte- 
Saint- Martin,  in  '  Hortense  de  Ceruy'  or  in  'La 
Dame  aux  Cami^lias '  at  the  Vaudeville,  he  is  always 
the  character  first .  then  those  happy,  unexpected  in- 
spirations which  are  the  seal  of  great  artists,  which 
transport  an  entire  audience  at  once,  and  invest  the 
character  with  charms  and  proportions  that  the  author 
himself,  with  all  his  high  ambition,  never  dreamed  of. 
In  '  La  Dame  aux  Camillas  '  the  illusion  is  complete. 
It  is  not  an  actor  playing  ;  it  is  the  man  taken  in  the 
very  act.  Fechter  has  the  action,  the  look,  the  voice 
of  our  inmost  emotions,  of  our  most  frequent  -passions. 
He  is  himself;  he  is  ourselves.  For  a  drama  in  which 
I  have  endeavored  to  cause  the  footlights  to  disappear 
and  to  bring  the  spectator  in  direct  communication 
with  its  characters,  for  this  study  in  which  I  have 
wished  that  a  generation  might  live  over  even  its  errors, 
where  could  I  have  found  a  surer  accomplice  than 
Fechter,  young  in  years,  mature  in  talent?  I  am 
happy  ;  it  is  but  my  duty  to  avow  it.  I  seek,  I  ask  in 
vain  :  who  could  have  given  to  Armand  Duval  the  con- 
vincing poetT}-,  the  noble  jealousy,  the  indescribable 


42 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


susceptibilities  of  feeling,  —  the  naturalness,  the  terror 
—  with  which  he  shaded  the  first  three  acts  ?  As  for  the 
frenzy  of  the  fourth,  at  the  end  of  which  the  entire 
audience  rose  to  cheer  and  to  recall  him,  —  him  and 
IMadame  Doche,  —  if  I  were  not  so  satisfied  at  having 
WTitten  tlie  piece,  I  should  wish  some  one  else  to  have 
been  its  author  that  I  might  say  of  Fechter  all  that 
ought  to  be  said.  His  heart  beat  in  every  part  of  the 
theatre.  In  the  fifth  act  he  gave  the  most  piercing  cry 
of  which  human  grief  is  capable.  Happy  the  brother 
author  who  next  has  Fechter  for  his  hero  !  Happy  I, 
who,  taking  my  turn  in  representing  the  public,  shall  go 
to  hear  him  and  to  clap  my  hands  !  " 

Did  ever  actor  receive  greater  praise  from  dramatist  ? 
And  well  might  Dumas  applaud,  —  he  who  had  done 
all  for  the  heroine,  making  Ari7ia7id  z.  secondary  figure 
and  expecting  no  more  from  him  than  is  down  in  the 
book  !  It  is  cleverness  that  succeeds  in  doing  well 
what  the  author  has  made  pre-eminent ;  it  is  genius 
that  carries  the  author's  conception  beyond  the  letter, 
and  makes  the  less  appear  the  greater.  After  seeing 
Fechter  in  Arf/iaJid,  Lemaitre  went  to  him,  saying : 
"You  are  a  great  fool,  my  dear  fellow.  You  throw 
yourself  away.  You  always  do  justice  to  e\-ery  portion 
of  your  role.  Your  performance  is  so  even,  so  good 
throughout,  that  the  audience  doesn't  appreciate  you 
half  as  much  as  it  ought.  Now  take  my  ad\-ice ;  follow 
my  example.  Save  yourself  for  your  great  points, 
and  the  people  will  be  so  startled  by  the  strong  con- 
trast as  to  go  quite  wild.  Don't  you  do  anything  in 
Annand  until  the  fourth  act,  and  then  you  '11  see  a 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


43 


hurricane  of  enthusiasm."  But  Fechter  refused  to  take 
Lemaitre's  advice.  He  was  too  true  an  artist  to  play 
for  effects ;  and  the  great  Frederic  left  him  with  the 
final  remark  that  of  all  fools  he  was  the  biggest. 

Looking  back  upon  "  La  Dame  aux  Camelias,"  it  is 
interesting  to  know  that,  though  rehearsed  on  the  stage 
of  the  Consen-atoire  during  the  Revolution,  the  moral 
censors  of  the  Republic  would  not  consent  to  its  pro- 
duction ;  and  not  until  the  days  of  the  Empire  did 
Dumas's  masterpiece  receive  gracious  treatment. 
Count  Momy  attended  the  first  rehearsal  expecting  to 
be  greatly  shocked.  '•  What  fools  those  Republicans 
were  !  "  he  muttered,  and  immediately  withdrew  every 
objection. 

Simultaneously  with  Scribe's  "  La  Fille  de  Trente 
Ans  "  came  Sardou's  "  Pattes  de  Mouche."  "  Which 
shall  we  accept?"  asked  the  manager. 

"  '  Pattes  de  Mouche,'  by  all  means,"  said  Fechter. 
"  It  is  admirable.  Scribe's  play  will  fail,  in  spite  of 
acting."  When  Scribe  heard  the  verdict  he  went  to 
Fechter  and  upbraided  hmi.  "  Say  no  more  about  it," 
replied  Fechter.  "  It  was  poHcy,  not  fi^endship,  that 
prompted  my  decision.  As  a  friend  I  will  do  an\thing 
for  you,  Scribe.     Your  comedy  shall  be  accepted." 

It  was  produced  ;  it  failed.  The  theatre  was  saved  by 
a  revival  of  "  La  Dame  aux  Camelias  ; "  and  Sardou's 
"  Pattes  de  Mouche  "'  fulfilled  Fechter's  predictions  by 
running  one  hundred  and  fifty  nights  at  the  Gymnase. 

In  "  Les  Contes  de  Boccace,"  a  five-act  comedy, 
Fechter  sustained  no  less  than  nine  characters  ;  while 
in  "  La  Vie  en  Rose  "  he  became  the  hero  of  a  lawsuit 


44 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


as  well  as  of  the  play.  Not  having  read  the  piece  be- 
fore its  acceptance  by  the  manager,  Fechter  declared 
that  he  would  not  perform  in  it  unless  the  last  two  acts 
were  entirely  changed.  He  would  not  be  connected 
with  another  failure.  The  parts  had  been  given  out, 
the  date  of  production  announced,  and  the  manager 
in  despair  resorted  to  law.  Law,  however,  did  not 
produce  the  desired  effect,  as  the  verdict  accorded 
three  months'  grace  to  Fechter,  after  which  he  was 
expected  to  comply  with  the  manager's  demands. 
Fechter  asked  for  no  better  terms,  as  it  only  needed 
delay  to  kill  the  obnoxious  play.  Completely  at  Fech- 
ter's  mercy,  the  manager  went  to  him,  sa}"ing,  — 

'•'  Dictate  your  ov\-n  terms.  Barriere  is  down  stairs  in 
a  hack.  He  wiU  do  an}-thing  you  please,  provided 
you  '11  play  in  his  piece  immediately." 

"Very  well,"  responded  Fechter;  "let  him  alter 
those  two  acts  as  at  first  suggested,  and  I  '11  rehearse." 

Thus,  while  the  company  rehearsed  the  first  three 
acts,  Barriere  reconstructed  the  last  two,  and  "'  La  Vie 
en  Rose "  had  a  rose-colored  reception  from  the 
pubUc. 

One  night,  diiring  the  performance  of  the  comedy 
"  On  Demande  un  Gouvemeur,"  Fechter  was  greatly 
inconvenienced  by  talking  that  proceeded  fi-om  a  stage- 
box.  Nothing  so  embarrasses  or  mortifies  an  artist  as 
this  most  brutal  of  insults,  and  nothing  so  justifies 
resentment  Louder  and  louder  grew  the  noise  until, 
in  righteous  exasperation,  Fechter  impulsively  flung  his 
cane  into  the  box  with  such  force  that  it  whizzed  Hke  a 
bullet.     He  then  coollv  rang  a  bell,  and  ordered  the 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER. 


45 


astonished  sen'ant  to  stop  the  noise  and  fetch  him  his 
cane.  A  dead  silence  took  possession  of  the  previ- 
ously boisterous  spectators  ;  and  a  cold  shiver  passed 
over  the  rest  of  the  audience,  who  saw  in  this  act  a 
speedy  challenge,  followed  by  a  duel  and  the  possible 
death  of  one  of  the  combatants.  "  Fechter  's  done  it 
agam,"  whispered  those  of  his  friends  who  knew  his 
readiness  to  resent  injustice  and  insult;  and  Fechter 
himself  was  quite  prepared  for  the  worst,  so  that  when 

the  card  of  M.  le  Comte was  sent  to  him  in  his 

dressing-room,  he  expected  to  be  called  out. 

"  Monsieur  Fechter,"  said  M.  le  Comte,  upon  enter- 
ing the  dressing-room.  ''  I  owe  you  a  very  humble 
apology  for  my  conduct.  A  short  time  ago  I  was 
intoxicated  and  insulted  you  unconsciously.  Your 
cane  brought  me  to  my  senses,  and  I  now  come  to  you 
for  pardon." 

Of  course  Fechter's  \\Tatli  was  quickly  appeased,  and 
M.  le  Comte  rook  his  departure  with  protestations  of 
everlasting  friendship  upon  his  lips. 

Leaving  the  Vaudeville  Fechter  made  a  successful 
tour  through  the  provinces,  ending  with  Lyons,  where 
he  was  to  give  six  representations  of  "La  Dame  aux 
Camelias."  Hisses  greeted  his  first  appearance,  the 
Lyonnais  having  given  their  allegiance  to  another  actor 
in  Armand,  and  being  determined  to  make  Lyons 
thoroughly  uncomfortable  for  Fechter.  "  Ladies  and 
gentlemen,"  said  Fechter,  approaching  the  footlights, 
"  it  makes  no  possible  difference  whether  you  Uke  or 
dislike  me,  whether  I  act  or  do  not  act ;  I  merely  wish 
to  say  that,  if  I  hear  another  hiss,  I  shall  leave  the 
theatre  and  never  enter  it  again." 


46 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


Silenced  by  this  independence  the  Lyonnais  kept 
their  madness  in  the  background,  but  preser\-ed  a  dis- 
couraging gloom  until  the  end  of  the  fourth  act,  when 
Fechter's  passion  broke  down  their  prejudice,  and 
former  enemies  became  ardent  admirers.  Before  Fech- 
ter  bade  farewell  to  Lyons  his  six  nights  had  length- 
ened into  three  months. 

Returning  to  Paris  Fechter  accepted  a  profitable 
engagement  at  the  Porte-Saint-Martin,  where  at  the 
end  of  ten  months,  after  having  appeared  in  two  new 
parts — in  Segour's  "  Fils  de  Nuit,"  and  Maquet's  "  Belle 
Gabrielle  "  —  his  engagement  was  cut  short  by  a  danger- 
ous attack  of  typhoid  fever  which  seized  him  suddenly 
while  acting.  Singularly  enough  he  had  but  just 
climbed  a  wall,  and  been  fired  upon  from  below  by  an 
actor  who  was  supposed  to  be  pursuing  him,  when  he  fell 
upon  the  stage  as  if  he  had  been  shot.  A  short  time 
before,  an  actor  at  the  same  theatre  had  barely  escaped 
death,  owing  to  the  pistol  being  loaded ;  and  imagin- 
ing a  similar  accident,  Fechter's  fellow-player  startled 
the  audience  by  crying  out,  "  I  have  killed  him  !  "  but 
afterwards  pacified  the  excited  multitude  by  assuring 
them  there  was  no  wound.  For  five  months  Fechter 
did  not  leave  his  bed ;  nor  was  he  able  to  resume  his 
profession  until  seven  months  later.  Overwork  had 
brought  on  disease,  and  rest  was  his  only  salvation. 
During  the  last  five  months  of  his  stay  at  the  Porte- 
Saint-Martin  he  had  rehearsed  pieces  for  the  Odeon, 
the  management  of  which  he  was  about  to  assume. 
Exhausted  Nature  took  her  revenge.  Upon  recovery 
Fechter  carried  out  this  intention  and,  before  himself 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


47 


reappearing,  mounted  "Andrd  Gerard"  for  Frederic 
Lemaitre.  He  made  his  rcnircc  in  Ponsard's  "  L'Hon- 
neur  et  I'Argent.' ' 

Loving  the  art  of  acting  quite  as  much  if  not  more 
than  his  own  personal  advancement,  Fechter  assumed 
the  management  of  the  Odeon  with  the  intention  of 
producing  standard  plays  m  a  manner  heretofore  un- 
known. Racine,  Comeille,  Voltaire,  Moliere,  and 
Beaumarchais  were  to  be  humanized  for  the  first  time. 
Rhyme  and  hexameter  were  to  be  given  colloquially. 
History  was  to  be  respected  in  mhe  en  scene  and 
costume.  Turks  were  not  to  sit  on  French  upholstery, 
nor  was  imperial  Rome  to  be  longer  shorn  of  its  splen- 
dor of  appointments.  If  the  socUtaires  of  the  Theatre 
Frangais  were  content  to  \  iolate  the  laws  of  eternal  fit- 
ness, at  least  Fechter  aspired  to  better  things.  Such 
audacity  filled  the  societaires  with  anger  and  dismay. 
"  AVhat !  a  minor  theatre  dare  to  produce  our  pieces, 
and  in  a  st}ie  superior  to  ourselves?  We  mil  show 
Fechter  our  superiority.'' 

So  when  Fechter  brought  out  "  Tartuffe,"  he  playing 
Tarluffc  for  the  first  time,  the  same  comedy  was  an- 
nounced at  the  Tht^atre  Fran^ais.  It  would  be  given 
three  nights  a  week  until  the  freebooter  of  the  Od^on 
was  sufificiendy  punished ;  but  the  public  failed  to 
appreciate  this  consideration,  and  the  irate  societaires 
were  obhged  to  withdraw  "  Tartuffe  "  after  the  second 
night.  Not  so  Fechter.  His  interpretation  of  the  en- 
tire comedy  was  a  revelation  to  playgoers.  Night  after 
night  found  Meissonnier  at  the  theatre,  making  sketches 
of  the  costumes  and  scenery.     "  II  a  mis  '  Tartuffe ' 


^8  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECLITER. 

dans  ses  meubles,"  said  the  journals.  Fould,  INIinister 
of  State,  wrote  to  Fechter,  expressing  his  delight  and 
declaring  that  he  enjoyed  it  with  all  the  relish  of  a  new 
play.  But  Fould  was  first  a  sen'ant  of  the  government, 
then  a  man  ;  and  when  the  sacred  powers  of  the  sacred 
Theatre  Fran^ais  demonstrated  to  him  the  impropriety 
of  Fechter's  poaching  upon  their  ground,  Fould  re- 
quested the  withdrawal  of  "  Tartuffe."  "  No,"  replied 
Fechter,  ''  I  cannot.  A  success  of  thirty  nights  proves 
that  my  efforts  in  behalf  of  dramatic  art  are  appreciated 
by  the  public.  When  the  sun  of  '  Tartuffe '  sets,  that 
of  '  Britannicus  '  will  rise  with  equal  splendor."  And 
he  meant  what  he  said.  While  acting  in  two  new 
plays,  "Le  Rocher  de  Sysiphe  "  and  Emile  Augier's 
"La  Jeunesse,"  '-Britannicus,"  and  "Macbeth"  were 
receiving  the  most  elaborate  and  careful  rehearsals. 
When  Fechter  closed  his  first  season  of  nine  months, 
he  determined  that  his  reopening  should  mark  an  era 
in  dramatic  art. 

Going  to  England  during  the  summer  of  i860  for 
the  purpose  of  regaining  his  health,  Fechter  received 
flattering  offers  from  Harris,  who  had  superseded  ]\Iad- 
dox  in  the  management  of  the  Princess's ;  but  all  aglow 
with  the  idea  of  bringing  out  French  and  English  clas- 
sics in  his  own  language,  he  refused  to  be  tempted. 
Then,  going  to  the  Tuileries,  he  applied  to  the  Emperor 
for  what  is  called  la  liberie  des  theatres,  —  that  is,  the  right 
to  perform  such  plays  as  had  heretofore  been  the  exclu- 
sive property  of  the  Theatre  Fran^ais.  Receiving 
Fechter  with  cordiality.  Napoleon  declared  that,  if  his 
own  consent  were   alone  required,  the  despotic  law 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


49 


should  be  .immediately  rescinded.  Unfortunately  he 
could  only  recommend  its  annulment  to  the  Chamber 
of  Deputies,  and  this  he  would  do  most  gladly.  For 
once  the  Chamber  of  Deputies  failed  to  agree  with 
their  imperial  master;  and  Fechter  impulsively  bade 
farewell  to  the  Paris  he  loved  so  well,  declared  he  had 
no  intention  of  devoting  his  life  to  melodrama,  and 
crossed  over  to  England.  Had  he  waited  patiently 
his  dream  would  have  been  realized,  for  Napoleon 
never  forgot  Fechter's  request,  and  two  years  later 
brought  about  the  necessary  reform.  "  Come  back," 
said  the  Emperor ;  but  the  battle  had  been  fought  and 
Fechter  could  not  resign  his  victor}'.  He  had  con- 
quered a  foreign  tongue  and  a  foreign  audience,  and 
would  not  leave  Shakespeare  for  Racine. 

Understanding  English  perfectly  when  spoken,  Fech- 
ter flattered  himself  that  it  would  cost  little  effort  to 
speak  it  equally  well ;  but  the  mystified  What  /  of  the 
cabman,  to  whom  he  gave  directions  upon  arriving  in 
London,  convinced  the  voluntar)'  exile  that  there  was 
no  royal  road  to  Shakespeare.  Devoting  himself  for 
four  months  to  our  stern  Anglo-Saxon  language,  he 
studied  sixteen  and  eighteen  hours  out  of  the  twenty- 
four. 

Selecting  "  Ruy  Bias,"  which  had  never  been  acted  in 
English,  as  less  likely  to  display  his  deficiencies  of  pro- 
nunciation than  a  native  play,  Fechter  made  his  debut  at 
the  Princess's  Theatre  on  the  27th  of  October,  i860. 
The  novelty  of  seeing  an  eminent  French  actor  trans- 
lated into  English  created  more  than  a  momentar}'  sen- 
sation.    The  papers  were  enthusiastic,  and  Ruy  Bias 


50 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


became  the  hero  of  a  hundred  nights.  Not  yet  daring 
to  trust  himself  with  classical  language,  Fechter's  next 
venture  was  in  the  "  Corsican  Brothers  ;  "  after  which, 
feeling  more  glib  with  his  tongue,  he  made  his  comedy 
entree  on  February  ii,  1861,  in  "Don  Csesar  de 
Bazan."  Six  weeks  later,  the  date  being  March  20, 
he  first  essayed  Hatnlet.  It  was  aiming  high,  but  not 
higher  than  he  could  attain.  Courage  is  the  friendly 
breeze  that  ever  fills  the  sails  of  genius ;  and  Fechter, 
long  familiar  with  Shakespeare,  did  not  feel  as  if  he 
were  undertaking  anything  new.  His  conception  of 
Hajiilet  was  so  thoroughly  original  that  it  became  the 
open-sesame  to  conversation  in  households  and  clubs. 
The  actor  was  transformed  into  a  lion,  — members  of  the 
royal  family,  the  aristocracy  and  gentry  rivalling  one 
another  in  offers  of  hospitality. 

"  Perhaps,"  wTOte  Charles  Dickens,  "no  innovation 
in  art  was  e\er  accepted  with  so  much  fa\or  by  so 
many  intellectual  persons,  precommitted  to  and  pre- 
occupied by  another  system,  as  Mr.  Fechter's  Hamlet''' 
There  were  those  who  exclaimed,  as  they  exclaim  in 
America,  "  C'est  magnifique,  mais  ce  n'est  pas  la 
guerre,"  but  he  had  powerful  support  from  the  best 
minds.  It  was  after  seeing  Fechter  in  Hamkt  that 
Dickens  sought  an  introduction,  which  took  place  at  a 
dinner  given  by  Chorley,  the  musical  critic,  and  which 
led  to  a  lasting  friendship.  So  great  an  impression  did 
Fechter  make,  that  "  Hamlet "  continued  running  for 
one  hundred  and  fifteen  nights,  from  the  20th  of 
March  until  the  end  of  August !  For  twent>--one 
nights  it  was  acted  six  times  in  the  week ;    but  the 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FEC LITER. 


51 


strain  being  too  great  on  Fechter,  who  felt  his  text 
most  acutely,  it  was  limited  to  four  nights  a  week. 

"  Mr.  Fechter,"  declared  that  captious  critic  the 
Saturday  Reviciv  *'is  a  most  logical  actor.  With  all 
his  intention  to  be  original  and  unfettered,  he  does  not 
deviate  from  the  prescribed  path  without  warrant  from 
the  text,  or  at  any  rate,  without  full  conviction  that 
there  is  nothing  in  the  text  that  can  be  opposed  to  his 
innovations." 

"Mr.  Fechter  does  not  act;  he  is  Hatnlct,'"  asserted 
the  AthencEum ;  while  G.  H.  Lewes,  who  rarely 
praised  any  acting,  admitted  that  Fechter's  conception 
was  "  fine,"  "consonant  in  general  with  what  the  text 
of  Shakespeare  indicates."  In  Lewes's  book  on  "  Actors 
and  Acting  "  we  read  that  "  Fechter  is  l}-mphatic,  deli- 
cate, handsome  ;  and,  with  his  long  flaxen  curls,  quiver- 
ing sensitive  nostrils,  fine  eye  and  sympathetic  voice, 
perfectly  represents  the  graceful  Prince.  His  aspect 
and  bearing  are  such  that  the  eye  rests  on  him  with 
delight.     Our  sympathies  are  completely  secured." 

Taking  a  vacation  of  two  months,  Fechter  reap- 
peared, on  the  23d  of  October,  in  "  Othello."  Here 
was  another  hard  nut  for  the  critics  to  crack,  and  the 
war  of  pro  and  con  waxed  fierce  and  loud.  Fechter's 
Othello  was  his  own,  and  for  forty  nights  the  theatre 
overflowed  with  deeply  curious  and  deeply  interested 
audiences. 

On  the  night  of  his  d^but  in  the  "  Moor  of  Venice" 
Fechter's  acting  edition  of  the  tragedy  was  widely  cir- 
culated. In  his  dedication  to  Richard  Lane,  Esq., 
Fechter  declared   the  convictions  that  were   in  him. 


52 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


He  avowed  his  firm  belief  that  Shakespeare's  plays  were 
I  certainly  written  to  be  acted  not  recited,  and  that  his 
conclusions  were  the  fruit  of  nearly  twenty  years'  un- 
ceasing labor  of  love  for  the  scenic  representation  of 
the  Great  Master.  After  expressing  his  disregard  of 
Tradition,  Fechter  presented  his  views  of  how  "  Othello  " 
should  be  acted.  Elaborate  stage  directions  supple- 
mented the  text  and  gave  a  precise  idea  of  the  actor's 
intentions. 

These  intentions  were  not  received  with  general 
favor.  "  His  Hamlet  was  one  of  the  very  best  and  his 
Othello  one  of  the  very  worst  I  have  ever  seen,"  wTOte 
the  uncompromising  Lewes.  "  On  leaving  the  theatre 
after  '  Hamlet,'  I  felt  once  more  what  a  great  play  it 
was,  with  all  its  faults,  and  they  are  gross  and  numer- 
ous. On  leaving  the  theatre  after  'Othello,'  I  felt  as  if 
all  my  old  admiration  for  this  supreme  masterpiece  of 
the  art  had  been  an  exaggeration." 

For  years  there  had  been  no  such  excitement  over 
legitimate  drama  as  this  GalHc  Othello  created,  —  an  ex- 
citement, however,  that  was  cut  short  by  the  approach 
of  the  pantomime  season.^  Fechter  refused  to  act  in 
conjunction  with  Columbine  and  Harlequin,  retired 
from  the  theatre,  and  left  Mr.  Harris  to  ruminate  on 
the  fallibility  of  managerial  judgment ;  for,  in  accordance 
with  Fechter's  predictions,  the  public  that  had  ap- 
plauded Shakespeare  failed  to  recognize  the  superiority 
of  his  successors. 

"  Come  back,"  implored  VLx.  Harris  at  the  close  of 
the  third  week. 

1  For  Press  Criticisms,  see  page  177. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


53 


"  No,  I  am  not  a  feather  to  be  blown  about  at  will," 
replied  Fechter.  "  You  said  you  would  run  your  pan- 
tomime ten  weeks,  and  run  it  you  may.  When  I 
return,  it  will  be  to  perform  lago  and  not  Othello.'' 

Mr.  Harris  did  not  love  Fechter  for  thus  paying  him 
in  his  own  coin,  —  human  nature  never  enjoys  retorts 
of  this  description,  —  but  being  helpless,  submitted  to 
the  actor's  terms  and  gathered  a  rich  harvest  in  conse- 
quence, lago  attracted  large  audiences  for  several 
weeks.  Then  Fechter  brought  out  "  The  Golden  Dag- 
gers," a  drama  taken  by  himself  from  Paul  Feval's 
novel  of  the  same  name,  the  scene  being  laid  in  Mex- 
ico. Admirably  as  the  drama  was  acted,  and  beauti- 
fully as  it  was  put  upon  the  stage,  it  failed  to  be  a 
pecuniary  success.  A  modem  story,  and  perfectly 
quiet  natural  acting,  disappointed  the  general  public. 
"  There  's  no  use  in  going  to  see  that,"  they  said  ;  "  it 's 
just  what  people  do  at  home." 

So  "  Hamlet  "  was  revived.  At  this  time  Fechter 
received  a  fine  offer  from  Ullman  to  visit  the  United 
States ;  but  not  wishing  to  leave  England  during  the 
great  Exhibition,  when  he  expected  to  continue  acting 
at  the  Princess's,  he  declined.  Then  came  Harris's  re- 
venge. Fechter  had  dared  to  dictate  to  him,  and  would 
not  perform  "  Hamlet "  more  than  four  nights  in  the 
week.  London  would  teem  with  people  ;  the  theatre 
would  be  patronized,  no  matter  what  the  attraction. 
Fechter  should  be  sacrificed.  Going  to  the  generous- 
hearted  Frenchman  with  a  pitiful  ston,-  of  woes,  Harris 
declared  that  Harrison  (the  tenor)  stood  ready  to  take 
the  theatre  off  his  hands  and  pay  him  a  handsome 


54 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECffTER. 


bonus,  provided  Fechter  could  be  induced  to  cancel 
his  engagement.  Touched  in  his  weakest  point,  his 
heart,  Fechter  consented  to  withdraw,  and  on  a  Satur- 
day morning  wTote  Mr.  Harris  to  that  effect.  On  the 
following  Monday  night  Mr.  Charles  Kean  appeared 
at  the  Princess's  in  ''  Hamlet "  !  The  story  about 
Harrison  had  been  a  ruse.  "  Hamlet "  with  Kean 
will  take  as  well  as  vdi\\  Fechter,  thought  INIr.  Harris, 
but  again  did  he  reckon  without  his  public.  Finding 
out  the  mistake,  ]Mr.  Kean  conveniently  managed  to 
turn  his  foot  on  this  first  night,  and  did  not  appear  for 
a  fortnight,  when  "  Hamlet "  was  quietly  ignored. 
Once  more  did  the  manager  beg  Fechter  to  return 
and  once  more  did  he  refuse. 

This  scur\y  trick  was  most  unfortunate  for  Fechter, 
as  it  prevented  him  from  acting  during  the  Exhibi- 
tion, —  a  consummation  he  had  devoutly  -nashed. 
Weary  of  managerial  chicanery,  he  became  lessee  of 
the  Lyceum,  which  opened  on  the  loth  of  January, 
1863,  with  "The  Duke's  Motto."  Foj  seven  months 
this  drama  drew  great  houses,  until  Fechter,  satiated 
with  Henri  de  Lagardere,  dropped  it  in  the  full  tide  of 
success.  Reopening  with  '•  Bel  Demonio  "  on  the  15th 
of  October,  this  highly  colored  drama  bade  fair  to  rival 
"  The  Duke's  Motto "  in  popularity,  when  Fechter's 
e\-il  genius  stepped  between  him  and  fortune.  On  the 
one  hundred  and  sevent}--fifth  night  Fechter,  in  mak- 
ing his  entrance  through  a  window,  caught  his  spur  in 
the  siU,  and  fell  so  violently  as  to  drive  the  hook  of  his 
scabbard  through  his  right  hand.  Ready  to  faint  with 
pain,  he  yet  went  through  the  scene,  and  even  finished 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


55 


the  play,  not  realizing  how  dangerous  a  wound  he  had 
received.  Arising  the  next  morning  with  the  intention 
of  acting,  his  physician  found  him  shaving  himself. 

"  You  had  better  go  back  to  bed,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  O  no,  I  shall  act  to-night." 

"  Indeed  !  we  '11  see  about  that.  Do  you  feel  any- 
thing queer  about  the  jaws?" 

"  No." 

"  Well,  keep  ver}'  quiet.    I  '11  return  in  a  few  hours." 

Return  he  did,  and,  as  he  expected,  found  Fechter 
in  bed,  but  fortunately  with  no  symptoms  of  lockjaw. 
The  exhausted  actor  and  manager  lay  for  three  weeks 
in  a  state  of  stupor,  rarely  conscious,  saving  when  food 
was  administered.  Escaping  the  terrible  death  of  lock- 
jaw, he  went  to  the  Isle  of  Wight,  where  he  gained 
strength  so  rapidly  as  to  venture  to  act  "  Bel  Demonio  " 
for  the  benefit  of  the  sufferers  from  the  Sheffield  inun- 
dation. In  acknowledging  the  generous  donation  of 
two  hundred  and  three  pounds,  the  entire  receipts,  the 
Mayor  of  Sheffield  offered  to  return  eighty  pounds, 
the  fund  having  reached  the  sum  necessary  to  meet 
the  most  desperate  cases.  "  Give  the  rest  to  the  poor," 
Fechter  replied. 

The  night  following  this  benefit  Fechter  broke  down, 
and  three  more  weeks  passed  before  he  was  able  to 
resume  his  profession.  Such  contretemps  were  not 
likely  to  advance  the  interests  of  a  theatre  of  which  he 
was  the  pecuniar^'  attraction  ;  and  the  Shakespeare  ter- 
centenary celebration  being  announced  for  April  23, 
1864,  Fechter  determined  to  bring  out  "  Hamlet " 
with  every  possible  effect.     His  orders  were  not  ful- 


56 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


filled  until  a  fortnight  later,  and  the  indignant  manager 
indulged  in  the  luxury  of  a  lawsuit.  "  Hamlet "  then 
ran  forty  nights. 

The  autumn  season  of  1864  opened  with  Paul  T^Ieu- 
rice's  comedy-drama  of  "The  King's  Butterfly." 
Splendidly  gotten  up,  and  introducing  Fechter's  favorite 
blood-mare  Minerva,  who  understood  French  and 
English  equally  well,  —  knew  almost  as  much  as  her 
namesake,  and  acted  in  a  wonderfully  human  way,  — 
the  new  sensation  endured  three  or  four  months,  when 
it  was  \\-ithdrawn  to  make  way  for  "  The  INIountebank," 
which  was  no  more  nor  less  than  "  Belphegor  "  entirely 
rewritten  by  Charles  Dickens,  with  a  child's  part  intro- 
duced to  display  the  great  dramatic  ability  of  Fechter's 
son  Paul,  then  a  child  of  seven.  The  counterpart  of 
his  father  in  appearance,  —  it  was  like  seeing  him 
through  the  small  end  of  an  opera-glass,  —  the  lad 
astonished  everj'body  by  his  acting.  On  the  first  night 
he  brought  tears  into  the  eyes  of  the  old  artists  around 
him,  and  introduced  bits  of  "business"  that  amazed 
even  his  father;  but  Paul  soon  tired  of  the  many 
repetitions  and,  being  a  pet  with  the  ladies,  found  it 
much  more  interesting  to  play  to  the  boxes,  and  be 
showered  with  bonbons,  than  to  lose  himself  in  his'part.-' 

"  How  can  you  smile  at  those  women  when  the  situa- 
tions are  so  tragic  ?  "  asked  the  father  in  despair. 

1  On  November  29,  1S47,  Fechter  married  M'Ue  Roebert, 
a  most  estimable  woman  and  a  pensionnaire  of  the  Comedie 
Fran9aise.  The  offspring  of  this  marriage  were  a  son  Paul  and 
a  daughter  Marie.  The  former  is  studying  for  the  law.  The 
latter  is  an  operatic  singer. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


57 


"  ^^'ell,  but  father,  you  don't  really  die,  you  know. 
It  is  n't  true.  It 's  only  make-believe.  We  all  come 
Lome  alive  and  enjoy  ourselves,  so  where 's  the 
harm?" 

Fechter  saw  that  the  stage  would  be  Paul's  ruin,  and, 
regardless  of  pecuniary  loss,  withdrew  the  drama,  bring- 
ing out  '*  The  Roadside  Inn,"  a  new  version  of  "  Rob- 
ert Macaire."  This  novel  rendering  of  an  old  friend 
drew  immense  houses  for  three  months,  and  might 
have  continued  indefinitely  but  for  the  Prince  of 
Wales's  desire  to  witness  a  performance  of  "  Ruy 
Bias." 

"  If  I  comply  with  your  request,  I  '11  surely  ruin  the 
future  of  '  The  Roadside  Inn,'  "  said  Fechter. 

"  Not  if  you  give  '  Ruy  Bias '  on  a  Saturday  night 
and  by  royal  command,"  argued  the  Prince. 

Ver)^  doubtful  as  to  consequences,  Fechter  complied. 
The  papers  waxed  furious  at  the  idea  of  royalty  leaving 
native  talent  unhonored,  and  commanding  a  perform- 
ance at  the  theatre  of  what  they  were  pleased  to  call 
"a  French  importation."  The  treasury  took  t\vo 
hundred  and  thirty  pounds,  ten  pounds  more  than  the 
theatre  held,  and  enthusiasm  ran  riot.  But  alas  for 
"  The  Roadside  Inn  "  !  The  next  Monday's  receipts 
droopeil  to  seventy  pounds,  and  the  previously  success- 
ful drama  fell  into  a  rapid  decline.  The  public  is  a 
queer  monster,  far  queerer  than  his  Royal  Highness 
the  Prince  of  Wales  ever  dreamed,  and  the  only  sop 
Fechter  could  throw  to  it  was  "  Ruy  Bias."  Victor 
Hugo  reigned  until  the  close  of  the  summer  season 
of  1865. 


58 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


Fifteen  years  ago  the  Lyceum  was  not  a  theatre 
adapted  to  the  legitimate  drama.  When  Fechter 
assumed  its  management  he  did  so  as  2.  pis  aller ;  and, 
while  earnestly  longing  to  produce  other  Shakespearian 
plays,  he  found  himself  hedged  in  by  fate.  He  thought 
in  prose  what  no  less  a  man  than  Garrick  had  written 
in  verse  :  — 

"  If  an  empty  house,  the  actor's  curse, 
Shows  us  our  Lea?-s  and  Hamlets  lose  their  force, 
Unwilling  we  must  change  the  nobler  scene. 
And  in  our  turn  present  you  Harlequin, — 
Quit  poets  and  set  carpenters  to  work, 
Show  gaudy  scenes,  or  mount  the  vaulting  Turk ; 
For  though  we  actors  one  and  all  agree 
Boldly  to  struggle  for  our  —  vanit}?-, 
If  want  comes  in,  misfortune  must  retreat; 
Our  first  great  ruling  passion  is  —  to  eat !  " 

With  this  idea  of  eating  in  view,  Fechter  began  the 
autumn  of  1865  with  "The  Watch-Cry,"  a  drama  in 
three  acts,  founded  on  the  story  of  the  three  brothers 
Salviati.  It  held  up  its  head  quite  firmly  for  two 
months  ;  but  as  Fechter  represented  a  dumb  man,  and 
confined  his  language  to  that  of  pantomime,  the  people 
declared  that  he  did  not  talk  enough.  "  We  want  to 
hear  as  well  as  see  him."  Wishing  to  gratify  this  ami- 
able desire  Fechter  produced  "  The  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood,"  on  December  23,  1865,  and  made  so  deep  an 
impression  in  the  romantic  Edgar  that  he  played  noth- 
ing else  for  tlie  remainder  of  the  season. 

September,  1866,  saw  Fechter  personating  Hamlet 
for  two  weeks.     Going  from  one  extreme  to  the  other 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


59 


he  revived  "The  Corsican  Brothers,"  which  attracted 
excellent  audiences  for  one  month.  Then  came  Fech- 
ter's  own  drama  of  "  Rouge  et  Noir,"  founded  on 
"Thirty  Years  of  a  Gambler's  Life."  It  was  pronounced 
good  work,  and  lived  luxuriously  for  one  hundred  and 
fifty  nights. 

Feeling  himself  utterly  incompetent  to  circumvent 
the  harpies  who  fattened  upon  his  treasury,  Fechter 
determined  to  retire  from  the  lesseeship  of  the  Lyceum, 
and  henceforth  confine  himself  to  his  proper  sphere  of 
acting  and  stage  direction.  Behind  the  scenes  Fechter 
was  a  master ;  before  them  he  was,  hke  most  artists,  a 
child.  Wishing  to  close  his  theatre  with  eclat  he  pro- 
duced "  The  Lady  of  Lyons,"  and  created  so  great  a 
furore  in  Claude  Melnotte  as  to  astonish  even  Bulwer. 
It  ran  seventy  nights,  the  curtain  falling  last  upon  it  on 
November  i6,  1867.  Then  followed  the  great  success 
at  the  Adelphi  of  "No  Thoroughfare,"  dramatized  by 
Dickens,  Wilkie  Collins,  and  Fechter,  and  acted  one 
hundred  and  fifty-one  times.  Fechter's  powerful  ren- 
dering of  Obenreizer  made  the  drama ;  and  no  sooner 
was  it  withdrawn  than  he  went  to  Paris  with  Dickens  to 
superintend  the  rehearsals  of  its  French  adaptation, 
"  L'Abime."  Returning  to  the  Adelphi,  Fechter  won 
double  laurels  for  one  hundred  nights  in  his  clever 
drama  of  "  Monte  Cristo,"  after  which  he  appeared  in 
"  Black  and  White,"  the  joint  work  of  himself  and  Wil- 
kie Collins. 

Not  having  visited  the  provinces  since  1865,  when 
his  circuit  had  been  limited  to  Glasgow,  Birmingham, 
and  Liverpool,  Fechter  gave  eight  months  of  1869  to  a 


6o       CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

tour  through  Great  Britain  and  Ireland.  E\en  Li\-er- 
pool  acknowledged  his  power.  This  city  is  not  greatly 
given  to  legitimate  drama ;  nevertheless  Li\erpool 
wanted  to  see  Fechter  in  "Hamlet."  "Very  well," 
said  Fechter,  " '  Black  and  ^^'hite '  cannot  be  with- 
drawn,, because  it  is  filling  the  theatre  ;  but  if  you  like 
I  will  give  you  one  act  of  '  Hamlet '  ever\'  night  imtil 
finished,  and  you  shall  have  it  after  the  drama." 

The  liverpudhans  readily  assented  to  this  arrange- 
ment, and,  putting  all  his  intensity  into  each  act,  Fech- 
ter never  acted  Ha77ilet  as  equally  as  on  those  five 
nights.  Liverpool  was  an  easy  conquest,  but  not  so 
Manchester.  This  good  town  had  a  grievance.  Years 
before,  Manchester  had  commanded,  had  petitioned, 
had  finally  implored  Fechter  to  come  to  them,  but  it 
was  not  until  this  season  that  he  was  able  to  respond 
to  the  prayer.  Then  Manchester  arose  in  all  her  might 
to  resent  a  prolonged  absence,  which  she  chose  to  con- 
sider a  slight.  The  world  may  think  what  it  pleases 
of  London  as  the  heart  and  head  of  Great  Britain, 
but  Manchester  has  opinions  of  its  own,  pre-eminent 
among  which  is  the  religious  conviction  that  Man- 
chester is  the  centre  of  the  solar  system.  Conse- 
quently, when  Fechter  did  appear  at  the  Theatre  Royal, 
it  became  incumbent  upon  a  club  clique  to  punish  him 
for  his  pre%"ious  indifierence.  So  the  clique  decided 
that  Fechter  should  play  to  empty  benches  until  the 
production  of  "  Hamlet,"  when  the  entire  solar  system 
should  shine  upon  the  star.  Feeling  the  injustice  of 
such  treatment,  and  determined  to  presence  his  per- 
sonal as  well  as  professional  dignit}-,  Fechter  held  the 


CHARLES  ALBERT  EECHTER.  6 1 

cards  .in  his  own  hands  and  won  the  game.  Playing  to 
audiences  of  three  and  four  hundred,  he  never  acted 
better  in  his  life.  For  those  who  did  come  to  see  him 
he  felt  that  he  owed  all  that  he  could  give  ;  for  those 
who  childishly  attempted  to  humiliate  him  he  inserted 
a  card  at  the  head  of  the  play-bills,  in  which  Mr.  Fech- 
ter  took  great  pleasure  in  announcing  that  his  engage- 
ment would  not  be  prolonged  after  the  performances  of 
"  Ruy  Bias  "  and  "  Black  and  White  "  !  He  was  as 
good  as  his  word,  and  the  clubs  of  Manchester  dis- 
covered that  for  once  they  had  found  their  match. 

Acceptmg  an  offer  to  visit  the  United  States,  Fechter 
hurried  back  to  London,  and,  after  fourteen  farewell 
performances  at  the  Princess's  of  "  Ruy  Bias,"  "  Lady 
of  Lyons,"  and  "  Hamlet,"  set  sail  for  America. 
"  Come  back  soon,"  said  the  Prince  of  Wales  on  that 
last  of  farewell  nights.  "  Remember  that  we  cannot 
get  on  without  you."  Well  might  royalty  confess  as 
much,  for  it  will  be  long  ere  England  salutes  the  peer 
of  that  "  French  importation,"  Charles  Albert  Fechter. 


FECHTER    IN    THE    UNITED 
STATES. 

1870-1879. 


"  My  fame  is  a  mere  ephemeron,  at  the  command  of  caprice. 
The  same  breath  that  nourishes  the  flatne  to  day,  puts  it  out 
to-morrow. ^^ 

Edmund  Kean. 


FECHTER   IN   THE   UNITED   STATES. 


TwEU'E  years  have  passed  since  Charles  Albert 
Fechter,  unheralded  save  by  a  few  words  of  praise  from 
the  pen  of  that  best  of  dramatic  critics,  Charles  Dickens, 
made  his  debut  in  New  York.  He  came,  he  was 
heard,  he  conquered.  An  eager  public  assembled  in 
Niblo's  Garden  on  the  loth  of  January,  1S70,  to  witness 
"  Ruy  Bias."  The  effect  produced  was  identical  with 
that  produced  in  London  and  recorded  in  the  Times,  on 
Fechter's  first  appearance  as  an  English  actor  :  — 

"  As  to  the  manner  in  which  M.  Fechter  would  speak 
English  the  mind  of  the  audience  was  soon  at  ease, 
and  there  is  that  music  in  his  voice  which  would  sound 
equally  well  through  the  medium  of  any  language. 
jRuy's  narrative  of  his  sufferings  and  his  love,  and  the 
small  delicate  touches  by  which  he  indicated  his  unea- 
siness under  a  master's  control,  carried  him  well 
through  the  first  act,  and  though  the  great  scenes  of 
the  piece  were  yet  to  come,  it  was  easy  to  foresee  that 
the  manner  of  their  execution  would  be  in  ever)-  way 
satisfactor)'.  The  second  act  was  an  immense  advance 
on  the  first.  Nothing  could  be  finer  of  its  kind  than 
J^ujs  declaration  of  love  to  the   Queen,  so  exquisitely 


^Q  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

was  the  fire  of  passion  tempered  by  the  feeling  of  re- 
spectful devotion,  and  with  such  eloquence  of  words 
and  action  was  the  text  poured  forth.  There  are 
not  many  actors  who  succeed  even  in  ordinary  love- 
scenes  ;  and  few  indeed  could  effect  an  exhibition  of 
that  idolatrous  form  of  passion  which  inspired  so  many 
poets  of  the  chivalric  ages.  The  misery  to  which  the 
virtuous  impostor  is  exposed  when  his  master  suddenly 
reappears  and  compels  him  to  do  petty  menial  offices 
while  he  is  still  in  the  plenitude  of  his  power,  —  the 
terribly  jarring  conflict  between  the  aspiring  mind  of 
the  statesman  and  the  bounden  condition  of  the  lackey, 
—  was  represented  with  wondrous  force  and  abun- 
dance of  detail.  But  it  was  in  the  last  act  that  the 
triumph  of  the  actor  reached  its  culminating  point,  — 
the  act  in  which  the  valet  appears  as  the  defender  of  the 
Queen  against  the  machinations  of  his  villainous  master. 
The  concentration  of  passionate  rage  with  which  he  ac- 
costed his  oppressor,  the  obvious  feeling  that  he  was 
throwing  from  his  soul  a  burden  that  had  long  crushed 
it  to  the  dust,  elicited  that  continued  succession  of 
plaudits  which  is  only  heard  when  an  audience  is  ex- 
cited in  the  highest  degree.  From  the  moment  wheti 
Ruy  snatches  the  sword  from  his  master's  side  (an  ac- 
tion which  of  itself  produced  an  electrical  effect)  to 
the  fall  of  the  curtain,  when  the  valet  dies  happy  in  the 
conviction  that  he  is  loved  not  under  false  colors,  but 
with  the  livery  actually  present  to  the  mind's  eye  of  his 
royal  mistress,  M.  Fechter  had  the  audience  completely 
in  his  grasp  and  could  do  with  them  as  he  pleased. 
The  shouts  which  invited  him  to  the  front  of  the  curtain 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


67 


were  the  certain  indications  of  an  unequivocal  and 
brilliant  success." 

To  me  this  Anglo- Franco- Piemontese-Teuton  was  a 
revelation.  I  had  been,  from  childhood,  under  the 
influence  of  the  natural  school  of  acting.  The  exqui- 
site comedy  of  the  Theatre  Frangais,  the  grandeur  and 
force  of  Ristori  and  Salvini,  the  incomparable  humor 
of  Charles  Dickens  the  reader,  had  been  a  liberal  edu- 
cation in  dramatic  art.  I  wondered  if  I  should  ever  see 
upon  the  stage  such  a  lover  as  Garrick  and  Barry  are 
said  to  have  been.  It  seemed  to  me  twelve  years  ago, 
and  it  seems  to  me  in  the  present  year  of  our  Lord, 
that  he  is  the  finest  actor  who  best  depicts  the  noblest 
of  all  passions.  "  O  Art,  my  art,  thou  art  much  I  "  ex- 
claims Aurora  Leigh,  "  but  love  is  more  !  Art  S}Tn- 
bolizes  heaven ;  but  God  is  Love  and  means  Heaven." 
If  love  be  the  divine  passion,  the  delineation  of  love 
should  be  the  actor's  highest  aspiration.  To  attain  his 
ideal  should  be  the  actor's  crowning  glorj-.  When 
Charles  Fechter  as  Ruy  Bias  uttered  those  five  small 
words,  "  I  madly  love  the  queen  ;  "  when  he  dared  to 
exclaim  before  Don  Ccesar,  ''  I  love  her,  that 's  all  I  " 
when,  dying,  he  gazed  upon  his  sovereign  for  the  last 
time,  throwing  into  his  face  an  expression  absolutely 
marvellous  in  beauty  and  pathos,  I  felt  that  the  deline- 
ation of  love  could  no  further  go. 

Fechter's  appearance  in  "The  Duke's  Motto,"  on 
Januar)'  26,  confirmed  the  public  in  their  enthusiastic 
admiration.  The  dual  parts  of  Henri  de  Lagardere  and 
y£sop  the  Hunchback  were  so  thrillingly  portrayed  as 
to  make  the  illusion  complete.     The  actor  lived  in  his 


^S  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

assumptions,  and  proved  the  justice  of  John  \\'eiss's 
criticism  :  — 

"  When  I  saw  that  great  genius,  Fechter,  before  he 
had  spoken  a  word  I  felt  he  was  the  man  he  was  to 
stand  for,  and  from  that  time  every  word  and  move- 
ment was  but  added  proof  to  my  feeling.  I  had  to 
tear  myself  away  from  the  man  he  stood  for  when  I 
would  think  of  the  man  he  was ;  and  I  doubt  not,  if 
I  could  have  seen  the  working  of  his  nature  within,  I 
should  have  found  that  he  was  not  himself  in  that  hour, 
but  the  embodiment  of  the  poet's  conception." 

Successful  in  the  romantic  drama,  Fechter,  on  the 
14th  of  February,  played  Hamld,  a  character  about 
which  every  critic,  every  confirmed  play-goer,  and  ev- 
ery Shakespearian  reader  has  a  preconceived  opinion. 
That  he  produced  a  sensation  is  unquestioned  ;  that 
his  conception  was  severely  criticised  is  equally  true. 
It  was  not  until  he  appeared  at  the  Boston  Theatre,  on 
February  21,  that  Fechter  received  such  recognition 
in  "  Hamlet "  as  England  had  given  him.  Boston 
took  the  new  actor  to  its  inmost  heart.  The  enthusi- 
asm excited  by  his  interpretation  of  Shakespeare  in- 
creased with  representations  of  "  Ruy  Bias  "  and  "  The 
Lady  of  Lyons,"  and  the  farewell  matinee  of  Bulwer's 
play  was  such  an  ovation  as  I  have  never  seen  equalled 
in  any  countr}'.  Gray-headed  men  shouted  with  de- 
light at  the  close  of  the  fourth  act.  Not  content  with 
the  frantic  wa\ing  of  handkerchiefs,  women  took  off 
their  hats  and  bonnets,  and  performed  strange  g}'mnas- 
tics  with  them.  Again  and  again  were  Fechter  and  his 
excellent  assistant,  Miss  Carlotta  Leclercq,  called  before 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


69 


the  curtain,  and  applause  only  ended  when  physical 
exhaustion  set  in. 

People  were  Fechter  mad.  No  dinner  was  com- 
plete without  him.  The  man  fascinated  as  much  as 
the  actor.  He  possessed  the  animal  magnetism  with 
which  great  actors  and  orators  are  generally  endowed. 

After  visiting  Philadelphia  professionally,  Fechter  re- 
turned to  the  Boston  Theatre  and,  on  the  20th  of 
March,  opened  in  "The  Duke's  Motto  "  with  all  his 
previous  success.     "  No  Thoroughfare  "  followed. 

"  Who  wrote  '  No  Thorouglifare  '  } 
Surely  not  Boz. 
Collins  it  was, — 
He  wrote  '  No  Thoroughfare.'  " 

During  his  visit  to  this  country,  Dickens  took  up  a  copy 
of  the  last  of  the  "  Christmas  Stories,"  and  marked  with 
a  pencil  such  portions  as  w-ere  his  own.  The  book  thus 
marked,  which  would  be  highly  valued  now,  was  by  some 
ill  luck  mislaid,  but  the  clever  man  of  letters,  to  whom  it 
belonged,  declares  the  proportion  of  Dickens  to  Collins 
to  have  been  exceedingly  small.  "  No  Thoroughfare  " 
will  never  be  known  to  posterity  as  other  than  a  child  of 
Wilkie  Collins's  brain,  as  like  its  father  as  a  child  can  be 
that  has  been  fed  on  Dickens.  To  say  what  portions  of 
"  No  Thoroughfare  "  Dickens  actually  wrote  would  be 
presumptuous ;  but  it  is  probable  that  after  talking 
over  the  plot  together,  —  a  plot  that  is  pre-eminently 
Collinsish,  —  Dickens  started  the  story,  conceived  the 
character  of  jfocy  Ladle,  and,  with  a  touch  here  and 
there,  left  the  rest  to  his  collaborateur.  "  Gentlemen, 
it  is  all  wery  well  for  you,  that  has  been  accustomed  to 


70 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER. 


take  your  wine  into  your  systems  by  the  conwivial 
channel  of  your  throttles,  to  put  a  lively  face  upon  it ; 
but  I  ha^•e  been  accustomed  to  take  my  wine  in  at  the 
pores  of  the  skin,  and,  took  that  way,  it  acts  different. 
It  acts  depressing.  It 's  one  thing  to  charge  your 
glasses  in  a  dining-room  with  a  Hip  Hurrah  and  Jolly 
Companions  Every  One,  and  it 's  another  thing  to  be 
charged  yourself,  through  the  pores,  in  a  low,  dark  cel- 
lar and  a  mouldy  atmosphere.  It  makes  all  the  dif- 
ference betwixt  bubbles  and  wapors.  I  've  been  a 
cellarman  my  hfe  through,  with  my  mind  fully  given  to 
the  business.  What 's  the  consequence  ?  I  'm  as 
muddled  a  man  as  liv'es  —  you  won't  find  a  mud- 
dleder  man  than  me  —  nor  yet  you  won't  find  my 
equal  in  moUoncholly.  Sing  of  Filling  the  bumper 
fair.  Every  drop  you  sprinkle  O'er  the  brow  of  care 
Smooths  away  a  wrinkle  ?  Yes.  P'r'aps  so.  But  try 
filling  yourself  through  the  pores,  under  ground,  when 
you  don't  want  it."  If  Dickens  did  not  originate  jfoey 
Ladle  and  his  quaint  conceit,  Dickens  never  originated 
anything.  Successful  as  a  story,  "  No  Thoroughfare  " 
was  no  less  successful  when,  dramatized  in  1867,  it 
was  brought  out  by  Fechter  at  the  Adelphi,  in  Lon- 
don, and  acted  one  hundred  and  fifty-one  times.  It 
was  only  withdrawn  in  England  to  be  produced  in 
Paris  under  the  name  of  "  L'Abime,"  the  French  adap- 
tation being  Fechter's,  and  the  rehearsals  being  super- 
intended by  Dickens  and  himself. 

With  such  prestige,  the  announcement  of  the  pro- 
duction of  this  drama  furnished  tea-tables  with  no 
small  amount  of  gossip.     Boston's  first  and  last  fami- 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


71 


lies  and  Boston's  brains  were  at  this  premiere.  All 
the  cultivated  clever  women,  whose  society  makes 
this  city  so  exceptional,  were  there.  There  sat  Long- 
fellow, looking  like  an  intellectual  "  King  Lear," 
editors  whose  hands  were  oftenest  the  first  to  start 
applause,  James  T.  Fields,  and  many  another.  And  the 
drama  itself?  It  is  clever.  Though  the  first  perform- 
ance dragged  its  slow  length  along  to  the  witching  hour 
of  twelve,  few  left  the  theatre.  This  is  the  greatest 
compliment  Boston  can  offer  an  artist,  as  the  suburban 
population,  tied  to  inflexible  trains  and  horse-cars,  gen- 
erally get  up  and  walk  out  in  agonizing  ignorance  of 
denouements.  There  are  those  who  have  never  seen 
the  last  act  of  anything,  and  await  a  future  existence 
before  they  shall  be  able  to  finish  their  uncompleted 
lives.  Apart  from  the  prologue,  which  can  never  be 
interesting,  as  no  interesting  characters  appear  in  it, 
and  apart  from  bits  of  scenes  for  subordinate  charac- 
ters that  must  always  bore  more  'or  less,  for  the  reason 
that  little  parts  are  rarely  well  played  — "  No  Thor- 
oughfare "  commands  constant  attention.  Of  course, 
it  is  sensational.  Wilkie  Collins  never  \\TOte  anything 
that  was  not  highly  so,  and  the  drama  is  a  condensa- 
tion rather  than  a  dilution  of  the  stor}',  altered  by 
Fechter  in  several  important  respects  to  meet  the  re- 
quirements of  the  stage. 

In  delineating  Obcnreizer,  a  passionate  villain,  Fech- 
ter gave  one  more  proof  of  his  great  versatility.  His 
easy  colloquial  acting  in  the  beginning  was  delightful, 
and  in  the  fourth  tableau  he  was  masterly.  His  quick 
transitions  from  repose  to  action,  at  one  moment  giv- 


72 


CHARLES  ALBERT  EEC  LITER. 


ing  advice,  at  another  stealthily  endeavoring  to  gain 
possession  of  the  receipt ;  his  equally  stealthy  attempt 
to  overcome  Vendale,  thwarted  by  the  entrance  of 
jfoey  Ladle ;  his  relapse  into  the  old  familiar  manner, 
and  final  urging  of  Vetidale  to  go  himself  to  Switzer- 
land and  bear  him  {Obenreizer)  company,  who, 
strangely  enough,  is  forced  to  make  the  same  journey ; 
his  inviting  Vendale  to  dine,  that  they  may  start  to- 
gether and  he  see  Ala rgue rife,  —  were  phases  as  mar- 
vellous in  combination  as  the  changes  of  the  kaleido- 
scope. 

When,  in  the  fifth  tableau,  (9^i?;/rm^r  returns  after  the 
drug  has  taken  effect,  his  cat-like  approach  to  the  bed 
in  search  of  the  forged  receipt ;  his  terror  upon  dis- 
covering that  Vendale  sleeps  in  the  chair  by  the  fire ; 
Vendale^s  momentary  return  to  consciousness,  and 
the  story  upon  Obenreizer's  lips  that  he  has  had  a 
bad  dream  about  his  friend  that  caused  his  return ; 
Vendale^ s  invitation  tb  remain ;  Obenreizer' s  inclina- 
tion to  kill  Vendale  while  asleep ;  his  feeling  for  the 
receipt  in  VendaWs  pocket,  and  the  unexpected  ap- 
pearance of  a  guide  rapping  out  four  o'clock,  the  hour 
of  starting  over  the  Alps,  just  as  he  is  about  to  seize 
the  receipt,  were  all  so  thrilling  in  pantomime  as  to 
make  the  spectator  watch  the  scene  with  bated  breath, 
believing  it  to  be  real. 

The  seventh  and  last  tableau  showed  Fechter  at  his 
best  in  the  exquisite  pathos  of  action  and  expression, 
as  Obenreizer,  dying  of  despair  and  nervous  exhaus- 
tion, looked  upon  the  woman  he  loved. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


73 


"  No  Thoroughfare  "  was  succeeded  by  "  Don  Coe- 
sar  de  Bazan  "  and  "  Ruy  Bias."  The  universal  favorite 
bade  farewell  for  the  season  on  April  i6,  when  he 
acted  in  French  for  the  benefit  of  the  French  Comedy 
Company  that  sorely  needed  financial  help.  No  one 
was  readier  than  he  to  give  his  services  to  a  worthy 
cause. 

Again  in  New  York,  Fechter  played  an  engagement 
at  the  French  Theatre  (now  Haverly's  Fourteenth 
Street  Theatre)  which  lasted  from  April  27  to  May 
23,  during  which  time  "The  Lady  of  Lyons,"  "Don 
Caesar  de  Bazan,"  "Ruy  Bias,"  "Hamlet"  and  "The 
Corsican  Brothers "  were  produced.  In  New  York 
Fechter  "was  admired,  in  Boston  he  founded  a  religion. 
Small  blame  to  him  then  for  preferring  the  Modem 
Athens.  He  dreamed  of  what  might  be  done  for 
dramatic  art  in  the  town  which  he  said  should  here- 
after be  his  home.  He  found  a  loving  friend  and  dis- 
ciple in  Arthur  Cheney,  proprietor  of  a  new  theatre, 
the  management  of  which  Fechter  accepted  with  en- 
thusiasm. He  would  give  up  starring ;  no  one  better 
appreciated  the  evils  of  a  system  which  abolishes  stock 
companies.  He,  Fechter,  would  prove  theories  by 
example,  and  the  land  of  his  adoption  should  have  a 
school  of  acting  the  influence  of  which  would  be  uni- 
versal. It  was  delightful  to  hear  Fechter  talk  on  dra- 
matic art,  of  which  he  was  master,  and  it  was  no  less 
delightful  to  witness  Arthur  Cheney's  eagerness  to  carry 
out  Fechter's  plans.  All  Boston  was  alive  with  excite- 
ment.    A  new  dramatic  era  was  about  to  dawn. 

First  came  the  naming  of  the  theatre.     The  amount 


74 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


of  brains  required  in  this  matter  is  only  known  to  such 
as  have  attempted  to  cliristen  a  book,  a  play,  a  boat,  or 
a  patent. 

"  Master  Field,  the  player,"  \\Tites  Taylor  the  water- 
poet,  "  riding  up  Fleet  Street  at  a  great  pace,  a  gentle- 
man called  him,  and  asked  him  what  play  was  played 
that  day.  He  being  angry  to  be  staled  on  so  frivolous 
a  demand,  answered  that  he  might  see  what  play  was 
plaied  upon  every  poste.  '  I  cry  you  mercy,'  said  the 
gentleman,  '  I  tooke  you  for  d^postc,  you  rode  so  fast.'  " 
This  IMaster  Field,  otherwise  Nat  Field,  one  of  the 
earliest  dramatists,  Httle  dreamed  that  two  hundred 
and  seventy  years  after  Shakespeare,  himself,  and  com- 
rades had  strutted  their  brief  hours  upon  the  stage  of 
that  Globe  which  may  be  called  the  mother  of  English 
theatres,  a  new  world  would  seek,  by  the  resurrection  of 
a  name,  to  link  itself  with  an  illustrious  past.  Yet  this 
came  about  in  the  baptism  of  Fechter's  theatre,  the  cur- 
tain of  which  rose  September  12,  1870,  upon  the  plot 
and  passion  of  "  Monte  Cristo."  It  was  a  glad  night 
for  Boston.  Our  fathers  had  grown  garrulous  over  the 
palmy  days  of  the  drama.  What  would  they  say  to  a 
stock  company  including  Fechter,  James  W.  Wallack, 
C.  H.  Vandenhoff,  G.  H.  Griffiths,  W.  J.  Lemoyne,  the 
brothers  Leclercq,  H.  F.  Daly,  !Miss  Carlotta  Leclercq, 
Mrs.  Chanfrau,  Mrs.  Mehnda  Jones,  IMiss  Mary  Gary, 
and  a  score  of  lesser  though  most  useful  hghts?  A 
king  among  pygmies  is  a  sorry  sight.  To  be  king 
among  princes  is  the  only  ambition  worthy  of  genius. 
The  Drama  was  to  be  cared  for  irrespective  of  in- 
dividual  actors.      The   system  of  starring  was  to  be 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


75 


abolished.  The  motto  of  the  Globe  was  to  be  '■'  Equal- 
ity and  Fraternity."  There  was  to  be  a  constant 
succession  of  new  works,  in  which  the  honors  of  per- 
formance were  to  be  equally  divided,  and  Victorien 
Sardou  was  to  be  asked  to  v\Tite  specially  for  the  new 
theatre. 

Boston  thought  the  millennium  in  art  had  come. 
Alas,  Boston  reckoned  without  its  master  of  revels.  I 
wish  it  were  not  necessar}'  to  show  other  than  the 
bright  side  of  Fechter's  career,  but  the  truth  must  be 
told.  Boston's  dreams,  Arthur  Cheney's  dreams,  of  a 
model  theatre,  were  to  vanish  into  thin  air.  There  were 
dissensions,  misunderstandings,  from  the  beginning,  all 
of  which  might  have  been  avoided  had  Fechter  been  a 
reasonable  man  of  business  instead  of  an  undisciplined 
genius.  There  was  a  twist  in  Fechter's  mind  that  no 
human  being  could  make  straight  by  argument  or  any 
other  means.  Personally  I  never  held  him  responsible 
for  either  words  or  deeds.  His  blood  was  too  hot  for 
reason.  His  father  possessed  an  ungovernable  temper, 
aggravated  by  drink,  which  he  bequeathed  to  his 
brilliant  son.  Xo  one  was  ever  less  fitted  to  command, 
for  the  reason  that  he  had  never  learned  to  command 
himself. 

Poor  Arthur  Cheney's  life  was  not  a  bed  of  roses. 
Devoted  to  Fechter,  anxious  for  the  success  of  his  own 
theatre,  he  saw  with  dismay  a  storm  arise  between 
Fechter  and  Wallack,  the  story  of  which  is  told  by  the 
combatants  in  the  following  correspondence  relating  to 
the  part  of  Don  Sallustc,  for  which  Wallack  had  been 
cast  by  his  manager,  Fechter  :  — 


7^ 


CHARLES  ALBERT  EECHTER. 


"  My  Dear  Fechter,  —  I  have  received  the  play, 
and  do  not  like  the  part  of  Don  Salluste  at  all.  I 
would  rather  not  play  it. 

Yours  truly, 

J.  W.  Wall.\ck." 

"  Mv  Dear  Wall^ck,  —  I  sent  you  the  part  of  Don 
Salluste  to  study,  not  to  judge.  I  should  as  soon  think 
of  asking  your  permission  to  cast  you  as  Joseph  Sur- 
face as  Don  Salluste.  I  beg  of  you  to  reconsider  your 
note  and  accept  the  part,  or  your  ser\-ices  will  be  use- 
less here,  and  your  engagement  at  an  end  this  very 
week.  I  consider  Don  Salluste  the  best  part  in  the 
play,  and  would  much  rather  act  it  than  Ruy  Bias. 
If  you  say  so  we  will  alternate  the  part  ....  And  I 
am,  my  dear  WaUack, 

Yours  truly, 

Ch.\rles  Fechter." 

"  Sir,  —  I  consider  that  no  other  prefix  is  necessary 
after  your  letter  o^f  this  date  ....  I  shall  have  no 
further  correspondence  with  you  in  relation  to  my 
engagement  at  the  Globe,  as  I  in  no  way  recognize 
your  right  to  interfere.  INIr.  Cheney  is  the  sole  party 
to  whom  I  am  engaged  and  to  whom  I  shall  look  for 
fulfilment  of  the  business  contract  made.  Had  you 
adhered  to  the  agreement  as  understood  by  us,  or  had 
you  intended  to  keep  your  word  as  given  in  the  pres- 
ence of  Islr.  Cheney,  this  need  not  have  occurred.  As 
it  is,  I  decline  further  correspondence  of  any  nature 
with  you.  Yours, 

T.  ^^■.  Wall.^ck." 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


77 


Surely  so  serious  a  tempest  never  arose  in  so  small 
a  teapot.  But,  with  all  Fechter's  irritability  of  temper, 
he  certainly  had  the  right  of  it  in  casting  Wallack  for 
Don  Sai/itstc' ;  and  why  that  usually  sensible  actor  re- 
fused the  part  is  beyond  present  comprehension. 

Like  a  shuttlecock  Arthur  Cheney  was  tossed  from 
one  battledoor  to  the  other,  reporters  from  all  over  the 
country  interviewed  both  actors,  and  great  was  the 
scandal  thereof. 

"  The  difficult)'  with  Fechter,"  said  Wallack  to  a 
journalist,  "is  that  he  doesn't  understand  men,  and 
especially  me.  He  's  too  high  and  might)'.  All  he 
had  to  do  was  to  slap  me  on  the  back  and  say  '  Here 
Jim,  let's  take  a  drink ;  I  dare  say  we  are  both  \\Tong,' 
and  I  would  have  given  in  at  once.  Instead  of  that, 
he  gets  his  back  up,  won't  play  at  all,  and  puts  the 
management  in  a  hole."  When  this  same  journalist 
called  on  Fechter,  the  actor-manager  said,  "  Nobody 
can  manage  Wallack  but  myself.  I  can't  manage  him 
in  this  matter  at  all.  All  he  had  to  do  was  to  ask  me 
to  take  a  glass  of  wine  and  arrange  it  amicably,  but  he 
is  so  stubborn.  He  's  Uke  a  mule,  my  dear  boy ;  and 
so  I  wait  till  he  is  ready  to  make  the  advance,  for  after 
all  I  am  in  the  right."  It  is  said  that  in  less  than  an 
hour  the  two  actors  met  at  the  house  of  this  common 
friend,  and  both  laughed  heartily  when  their  host  nar- 
rated his  experience  with  each  of  them.  Actors  have 
been  called  children  of  a  larger  growth.  Were  there 
ever  greater  proofs  thereof  than  are  found  in  this  epi- 
sode ?  At  last  there  came  the  climax ;  and  on  Decem- 
ber 14,  1870,  Fechter,  in  an  injudicious  letter  addressed 


73 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


to  the  editor  of  the  Boston  Traveller,  unveiled  the  secrets 
of  the  coulisses.  He  therein  declared  his  intention 
of  resigning  the  management  of  the  Globe  Theatre, 
"  notwithstanding  the  prayers  of  and  his  sincere  affec- 
tion for  his  friend  Cheney."  The  story  Fechter  then 
told  need  not  be  repeated.  Quarrels  die  as  well  as. 
people.  The  truth  lay  in  the  fact  that  Fechter  was  the 
right  man  in  the  wrong  place.  It  is  no  more  than  just, 
however,  to  Fechter  to  reaffirm  his  statement  that  '•  in 
assuming  management,  at  a  great  pecuniary  loss,  he 
had  no  other  views  than  the  benefit  of  art,  the  whole- 
some amusement  of  the  public,  and  the  pride  and 
comfort  of  his  hearty  friend  Cheney."  Fechter  was 
always  indifferent  to  money ;  he  spent  it  as  fast  as  he 
made  it.  He  held  Boston  in  high  esteem,  —  and  well 
he  might,  as  there  he  found  his  best  friends  and  warmest 
appreciators.  He  truly  longed  to  advance  dramatic 
art.     He  did  not  know  himself. 

Boston's  millennium  was  brief.  After  holding  the 
stage  for  twelve  weeks,  "  Monte  Cristo  "  made  way  for 
"  Hamlet,"  "  Lady  of  Lyons,"  "  Ruy  Bias  "  and  '•  Don 
Caesar  de  Bazan;"  and  on  December  26  Fechter  pro- 
duced for  the  first  time  in  this  country  the  drama  of 
"  Black  and  White,"  written  by  Wilkie  Collins  and 
himself.  The  public  were  greatly  impressed  by  Fech- 
ter s  acting,  and  liked  the  drama  j  but  on  January  14, 
18 7 1,  Fechter  trod  the  stage  of  the  Globe  Theatre  for 
the  last  time.  The  occasion  was  made  a  testimonial 
benefit  to  himself,  at  which  he  appeared  as  Ruy  Bias,  — 
Miss  Carlotta  Leclercq  playing  "A  Sheep  In  ^^'olf's 
Clothing  "  as  an  afterpiece. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


79 


From  this  point  Fechter's  downfall  begins.  The 
unhappy  temper  that  wrecked  the  fortunes  of  the 
Globe  Theatre  lost  none  of  its  malign  influence  on 
being  transplanted  to  New  York.  Fechter  believed 
that  his  dream  of  a  theatre  might  be  reahzed  in  the 
•metropohs.  The  capitahst  was  found  ;  the  French  Thea- 
tre was  selected.  Certainly  Fechter  showed  his  fine 
knowledge  of  theatrical  requirements,  both  before  and 
behind  the  footlights,  in  the  changes  which  were  made 
under  his  direction ;  but  the  day  of  misunderstandings 
set  in,  and  the  Lyceum,  named  after  Fechter's  London 
theatre,  never  knew  its  creator  as  manager. 

Returning  to  Europe  for  a  few  months  in  1872, 
Fechter  reappeared  at  the  Adelphi,  London,  in  March ; 
when,  according  to  the  Times,  "  he  was  heartily 
greeted  by  a  numerous  and  expectant  audience,  who 
burst  into  one  unanimous  shout  of  welcome  as  soon  as 
he  became  visible  on  the  stage."  The  drama  was 
"  Ruy  Bias,"  in  which  Fechter  exercised  all  his  old 
charm,  —  the  Times  declaring  that  "  devotional  love, 
which  is  the  life  and  soul  of  so  many  poems  and  ro- 
mances, is  expressed  by  Mr.  Fechter  with  an  intensity 
which  is  peculiarly  his  own.'' 

Fechter's  next  appearance  in  New  York  was  on 
April  28,  1873,  as  Monte  Crista,  at  the  Grand  Opera 
House.  This  drama  was  followed  on  June  i  by  "  The 
Corsican  Brothers,"  and  on  June  9  by  "  Ruy  Bias," 
which  was  played  a  week.  On  December  1 1  of  the 
same  year,  Fechter  began  an  engagement  at  what  was 
to  have  been  his  o\v-n  theatre,  the  Lyceum.  The  doors 
suddenly  closed  after  nine  nights  of  "The  Lady  of 


So  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

Lyons."  It  was  pathetic  to  watch  the  decadence  in 
popularit)'-  of  a  great  actor,  a  decadence  due  to  the 
faults  of  the  man. 

Four  months  later,  on  April  13,  1S74,  Fechter 
opened  the  Park  Theater  on  Broadway,  near  Twenty- 
second  Street,  under  William  Stuart's  management. 
The  attraction  was  "  Love's  Penance,"  a  play  in  tliree 
acts,  and  a  prologue  adapted  by  himself  from  "  Le 
Medecin  des  Enfants."  The  first  night's  audience 
knew  what  acting  meant,  and  gave  to  Fechter  the 
enthusiastic  approbation  he  desen'ed. 

After  ?  The  sequel  is  told  by  WiUiam  Winter,  in  the 
Tribune :  "  The  play  was  too  long  and  too  sombre,  but 
Fechter  never  acted  better ;  and  in  a  more  artistic  com- 
munity the  actor  would  have  saved  the  piece,  and  put 
money  in  the  manager's  purse.  But  New  York  was  not 
Paris.  Personally  Fechter  had  ceased  to  be  popular, 
through  no  one's  fault  but  his  owni,  I  grieve  to  admit ; 
and  after  tvventy-three  performances,  'Love's  Penance* 
was  -ftithdrawn."  Here  is  the  stor\%  in  five  words  : 
New  York  was  not  Paris.  Paris,  as  a  rule,  recognizes 
art,  irrespective  of  indi\iduals  ;  New  York  looks  at  art 
through  personahty.  Fechter  ignored  or  quarrelled  with 
those  upon  whom  his  success  depended.    It  was  pitiful. 

Karl  in  "  Love's  Penance  "  was  Fechter's  last  crea- 
tion. From  this  time  forward  he  was  content  with  the 
repertoire  that  had  made  him  famous.  In  some  towns, 
especially  Boston,  he  exercised  all  his  old  power ;  in 
others,  he  was  not  appreciated.  In  1876  Fechter  fell 
upon  the  ice,  and  broke  his  leg.  This  misfortune  made 
him  physically  infirm,  and  cast  additional  gloom  upon 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER.  gl 

his  career.  The  end  was  not  long  in  coming.  Ap- 
pearing in  public  by  flashes,  Fechter  sought  seclusion 
on  his  farm,  which  he  bought  in  July,  1873,  having 
always  declared  that  the  farmer  was  the  happiest  and 
most  independent  of  men.  To  begin  a  career  in  Paris, 
and  to  end  it  in  the  Uttle  village  of  Rockland  Centre, 
Bucks  Count)',  three  miles  from  Quakertown,  and  two 
hours  from  Philadelphia  by  the  North  Pennsylvania 
Raihoad,  is  as  strange  a  contrast  as  can  well  befall 
mortal.  In  an  old  unpretentious  country-house,  a  few 
feet  from  the  highway,  the  ideal  stage-lover  passed  the 
greater  part  of  the  last  three  years  of  his  Ufe.  The 
farm  consisted  of  fifty-seven  acres.  Fechter's  summer 
sitting-room  was  hung  with  fire-arms  ;  for  he  delighted 
in  field-sports,  and  was  as  fine  a  shot  as  he  was  a 
fencer.  Dickens  did  not  love  dogs  more  dearly.  Five 
of  these  noble  brutes  shared  the  actor's  room  and 
table.  They  were  his  companions  in  all  his  excursions, 
saving  when  he  wielded  the  fishing-rod,  with  which  he 
was  very  skilful. 

Nature  could  not  restore  Fechter  to  health.  For 
years — ever  after  the  attack  of  typhoid  fever  in  Paris  — 
his  digestive  organs  were  greatly  impaired  ;  and  it  was 
not  unusual  for  his  stomach  to  be  distended  with  gas 
like  a  drum,  causing  great  suffering,  and  rendering  cloth- 
ing insupportable.  Yet  in  this  condition  he  enchanted 
many  an  audience  !  Imagination  triumphs  over  mat- 
ter. But  matter  has  its  revenge  in  the  end.  Fechter 
disappointed  the  public  again  and  again,  —  the  public 
taking  their  revenge  by  attributing  his  non-appearance 
to  dissipation.    He  was  on  the  road  to  the  grave.    The 


82       CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

spring  of  1879  found  him  in  precarious  health,  and  bad 
became  worse  as  summer  appoached.  The  malady 
being  of  the  liver  and  digestive  organs,  Fechter's  agony 
was  intense.  At  last  Fechter  was  confined  to  the  house, 
and,  gradually  sinking  into  a  stupor,  died  at  six  o'clock 
on  the  morning  of  Aug.  5,  1879. 

Had  Fechter  been  as  complete  a  man  as  he  was 
an  actor,  his  death  would  have  been  a  calamity.  Ac- 
cepting facts,  his  best  friends  realized  that  he  passed 
away  none  too  soon  for  his  reputation.  Months  pre- 
vious, he  had  in  his  own  mind  bade  farewell  to  the 
stage.  When,  on  his  last  visit  to  New  York,  he 
consulted  physicians  concerning  his  disease,  Fechter 
exclaimed  mournfully,  after  witnessing  a  dramatic  per- 
formance :   "  Poor !    he  little  knows  how  his  fat 

stomach  affects  his  cavaliership  ;  but  in  his  ludicrous- 
ness,  I  read  my  own  fate.  I  am  done  with  the  stage 
forever."  Friends  laughed ;  whereupon  he  grew  elo- 
quent on  the  necessity  of  physical  fitness  to  artistic 
success.  Love  was  opposed  to  obesity,  and  he  would 
renounce  Ruy  Bias  before  Ruy  Bias  renounced  him. 
Is  it  not  pathetic  that  an  actor's  brains  should  not 
weigh  in  the  balance  against  an  actor's  paunch  ?  Romeo 
may  be  divine,  yet  if  Romeo  be  fat,  the  world  wants 
him  not. 

He  who  lives  in  the  glare  of  the  footlights  is  doomed 
to  have  his  failings  proclaimed  from  the  housetops. 
Human  nature  is  prone  to  believe  the  worst,  and  at- 
tributed Fechter's  death  to  drink.  On  being  told  that 
report  gave  credence  to  such  a  belief,  Fechter's  physi- 
cian replied,  after  a  post-mortem  examination  :  "  There 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


83 


is  nothing  to  indicate  such  a  condition.  I  do  not 
believe  that  he  has  been  a  drinking  man  of  late.  We 
had  great  difficulty  in  getting  him  to  swallow  stimulants 
to  keep  up  his  strength.  He  refused  at  first.  He  was 
conscious  until  nearly  the  last,  and  suffered  very  much. 
I  don't  believe  his  illness  was  brought  on  by  the  use  of 
hquor." 

Followed  by  one  or  two  intimate  friends  and  a 
iQ.\i  acquaintances,  Charles  Fechter's  remains  were  on 
August  8  placed  in  the  receiving  vault  of  Mt.  Vernon 
Cemetery,  Philadelphia.  On  the  20th  of  June,  1880, 
they  were  laid  in  the  grave.  Fechter's  monument, 
representing  a  bust  of  the  actor  with  bay  leaves  and 
laurel  carved  around  it,  bears  the  inscription,  "  Genius 
has  talien  its  flight  to  God."  In  taking  that  flight,  the 
soul  has  found  the  light  that  genius  failed  to  give. 

Those  of  us  who  believe  in  Fechter's  greatness  do 
not  care  to  remember  the  blots  on  the  escutcheon. 
He  was  a  benefactor  in  dramatic  art.  Let  that  fact 
suffice.  Personally  he  could  be  delightful,  end  I  owe 
to  him  hours  upon  hours  of  instruction  as  well  as  of 
entertainment.  He  believed  in  the  stage,  and  no  one 
was  ever  more  lucid  or  fluent  in  its  exposition.  He 
was  not  one  to  brook  contradiction,  however,  and  I 
should  have  sooner  thought  of  playing  Hamld  than  of 
opposing  his  pet  opinions.  Like  Landor  he  possessed 
"a  proud  complacency  and  scornful  strength,"  a  re- 
sentful impatience  ;  like  Landor  he  was  choleric.  Like 
Landor  he  had  that  to  impart  which  was  worth  learn- 
ing. In  Dickens's  household  the  master  was  called 
"  Mr.  Always  Right,"  while  his  friend  Fechter  received 


84  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

the  sobriquet  of  "  Mr.  Never  Wrong."  Here  was 
the  rock  which  ^^Tecked  a  noble  career.  Faiblesse 
vaut  vice  was  his  hfe-long  motto ;  it  was  his  inher- 
ited curse.  If  nature  has  endowed  us  with  less  way- 
wardness and  more  self-control  than  fell  to  the  lot  of 
Charles  Fechter,  the  more  reason  have  we  to  thank 
God  and  to  encircle  with  charity  the  memor}'  of  an 
unhappy  genius. 

"  Rest,  perturbed  spirit." 


FECHTER'S    "HAMLET." 


FECHTER'S   "HAMLET." 


Of  all  Fechter's  repertoire  given  in  this  countr}% 
Hamld  was  the  only  character  that  fully  called  out 
his  resources ;  and,  whether  or  not  his  conception  be 
acknowledged  as  Shakespeare's,  he  strangely  moved 
his  audiences.  Who,  however,  is  presumptuous  enough 
to  proclaim  Shakespeare's  conception  of  "  Hamlet  "  ? 
From  Voltaire,  who  declared  "Hamlet"  to  be  the 
work  of  a  drunken  savage,  to  Goethe,  who  would  have 
made  innumerable  changes  in  the  plot,  — from  Coleridge 
to  our  own  brilliant  Lowell,  —  "  there  has  been  much 
throwing  about  of  brains."  That  Shakespeare  has  not 
"  revisited  the  glimpses  of  the  moon  "  to  tell  us  what 
he  does  mean,  is  strong  evidence  against  the  theory  of 
modem  Spiritualism.  Never  have  written  words,  the 
Bible  excepted,  inspired  a  like  amount  of  controversy ; 
and  as  Catholic  and  Protestant,  Episcopalian  and 
Radical,  Presbyterian  and  Unitarian,  find  their  creeds 
in  the  Testaments,  so  do  critics  find  authority  for 
their  various  dogmas  concerning  "  Hamlet."  While 
no  two  entirely  sympathize,  shall  the  right  of  private 
judgment  be  abolished  ?  and  because  a  great  actor  dis- 
agrees with  certain  great  writers,  shall  he  be  crucified 
and  told  that  his  is  not  Shakespeare's  Hamlet  ?     It  is 


88  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

an  easy  criticism  to  make,  —  Shakespeare  being  "safely 
stowed,"  and  no  contradiction  possible.  It  is  so  clieap 
as  to  fall  first  from  the  lips  of  those  who  have  never 
given  "  Hamlet  "  a  thought,  and  are,  therefore,  quite 
prepared  to  pass  judgment. 

"  It  is  n't  Shakespeare's  Hamlet,^''  exclaimed  an 
illiterate  man  who  sat  behind  me  at  the  theatre  one 
night.  "  It  is  n't  right,  you  know.  He  does  n't  give 
you  the  proper  accents.  It 's  a  foreigner's  interpreta- 
tion." 

"Well,  but  —  Hamlet'<i  a  foreigner,  isn't  he?" 
asked  a  timid  little  woman,  in  a  timid  little  voice. 

"  Yes,"  responded  the  critic,  with  a  somewhat  puz- 
zled, expression  of  face,  "  he  's  a  foreigner,  he  's  a  for- 
eigner, but,"  and  then  exultation  broke  through  the 
trouble,  —  "  but  yoii  see  it  'j-  a7i  English  play .' " 

Argument  ceased.  Everybody  was  carried  away  by 
the  illiterate  man's  superior  intelligence.  Neverthe- 
less, the  timid  little  woman  did  murmur  that  it  was 
very  interestmg  and  there  must  be  something  in  it, 
as  heretofore  she  had  always  gone  to  sleep  over 
"  Hamlet." 

If  people  would  only  cast  commentators  aside  and 
read  "  Hamlet "  by  the  light  of  their  own  understand- 
ing, they  would  be  surprised  to  find  how  much  clearer 
the  text  is  than  WTiters  are  willing  to  have  it  appear.^ 

1  One  is  tempted  to  "  wrangle  gently "  with  Mr.  "White 
for  his  statement  that  the  Ghost  does  not  appear  in  the  third 
act,  Hamletht'mg  the  victim  of  an  optical  delusion.  Does  not 
the  Ghost  speak  to  Hamlet  ?  Why  is  not  the  Ghost  as  real  in 
the  third  as  in  the  first  act  ?     Merely  because  invisible  to  the 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


89 


Fechter's  ZT^zot/c'/ was  not  the  introspective  student  of. 
tradition.  He  was  a  man  of  the  world,  in  the  noblest 
sense  of  the  term,  of  joyous  disposition,  whose  tem- 
per —  and  here  he  agreed  with  Goethe  —  assumed  its 
mournful  tinge  upon  the  death  of  his  father  and  the 
unseeml)-  marriage  of  his  mother.  "  Not  reflective  or 
sorrowful  by  nature,  reflection  and  sorrow  had  become 
for  him  a  heavy  obligation."  The  Queen  refers  to  him 
as  "  my  too  much  changed  son,"  and  the  A7//y  mar- 
vels at  HamlcVs  transformation  :  — 

Queen,  and  visible  to  Horatio  and  Marcellus  ?  This  is  nothing 
new  in  supernatural  scenes.  "Be  subject  to  no  sight  but  thine 
and  mine,"  says  Prospero  to  Ariel,  "  invisible  to  every  eyeball 
else ;  "  and  Ariel  curvets  unseen  of  mortals.  Hamlet  would  have 
doubted  his  senses  had  not  the  Guards  and  the  cooler-headed 
Horatio  beheld  the  Ghost ;  but  how  contrarj'  to  the  dead  King's 
tender  nature  to  make  himself  visible  to  the  Queen,  who,  already 
plunged  in  agony,  would  probably  be  crazed  l)y  so  awful  a  spec- 
tacle as  the  apparition  of  her  murdered  husband  .' 

And  with  regard  to  Wittenberg,  which  seems  to  be  the 
source  of  so  much  discussion,  there  is  nothing  to  indicate 
Hamlefs  still  being  a  student.  Overcome  with  grief,  disgusted 
with  the  world,  he  talks  of  going  to  his  old  university  town 
where  he  passed  his  youth,  and  where  he  is  most  likely  to  meet 
true  friends,  among  them  Horatio.  He  is  easily  dissuaded  by 
his  mother,  and  Wittenberg  is  brought  to  him  in  the  guise  of 
fellow-students.  From  first  to  last  the  te.xt  infers  Hamlefs  long 
acquaintance  with  the  court  and  outside  world.  His  welcome 
to  his  old  friend,  "  Horatio,  or  I  do  forget  myself,"  denotes  that 
the  two  have  not  met  for  some  time.  Rosenerantz  and  Guilden- 
stern  are  spoken  of  as 

"  Being  of  so  young  days  brought  up  with  him  ; " 
and  Hamlet  conjures  them  "  by  the  consonancy  of  our  youth." 


go  CHARLES  ALBERT  EECHTER. 

"  So  I  call  it, 
Since  nor  th'  exterior  nor  the  inward  man 
Resembles  that  it  was." 

"  I  have  of  late  lost  all  my  miith,  foregone  all  custom 
of  exercises,"  Hamld  states ;  by  which  we  get  a 
glimpse  of  a  boon  companion,  "  the  obsen-ed  of  all 
observers,"  one  "  loved  of  the  distracted  multitude,"  — 
who  delights  in  all  manner  of  sports,  who  up  to  the 
last  moment  is  so  sensitive  of  his  prowess  in  fencmg  as 
to  be  somewhat  jealous  of  Laertes's  reputation,  and 
long  to  cross  weapons  with  him. 

His  first  impulse  in  grief  is  to  commit  suicide,  — 
ever  the  panacea  of  hot-blooded  sanguine  tempera- 
ments. No  civihzed  country  can  rival  France  in  the 
number  of  its  suicides,  yet  no  people  are  possessed  of 
equal  esprit  and  buoyancy.  But  Hamlet  is  a  good 
Catholic.  The  Everlasting  has  "  fixed  his  canon  'gainst 
self-slaughter;  "  and,  though  he  twice  meditates  taking 
his  life,  he  is  restrained  by  religious  faith.  He  is  brave 
and  daring,  as  a  soldier  ought  to  be.  He  is  not  afraid 
of  his  father's  Ghost^  for,  on  hearing  of  its  appear- 
ance, he  quickly  exclaims,  '•'  I  Avould  I  had  been 
there,"  and  "  I  will  speak  to  it  though  hell  itself  should 
gape,  and  bid  me  hold  my  peace."  Hence  he  is  awed, 
not  terrified,  by  the  Ghosfs  presence.  The  Ghost 
makes  night  hideous,  because  it  shakes  his  disposition 
"  with  thoughts  beyond  the  reaches  of  our  souls."  Is 
this  the  language  of  a  man  given  to  cloistered  musings 
and  inward  living  ?     How  can  Hamlet  possess 

"  Courtier's,  soldier's,  scholar's  eye,  tongue,  sword," 


CHARLES  ALBERT  EEC /ITER. 


91 


and  lead  the  life  of  a  seer?  It  is  impossible.  He  is 
first  courtier  and  lastly  scholar,  be  it  observed.  He  is 
a  lover  of  acting,  he  is  an  acute  critic,  and  therefore 
must  be  of  the  world,  as  well  as  ///  it.  Introverted 
minds  take  little  pleasure  in  the  studies  to  which  Ham- 
let evidently  gave  much  time.  Hamlcfs  humor  is  so 
deeply  implanted  that  even  in  the  most  solemn  mo- 
ments he  cannot  refrain  from  apposite  punning.  It  is 
carried  even  to  grimness  over  "  this  fellow  in  the  cel- 
larage." This  extreme  from  grave  to  gay  is  not  an 
attribute  of  introversion,  but  quite  accords  with  the 
nature  of  such  a  man  as  Fechter  put  before  us. 

Fechter  left  no  doubt  as  to  HamlcVs  passionate  love 
for  Ophelia,  and  truly  it  was  grateful  to  see  the  mean- 
ing of  the  text  fulfilled.  A  man  who  "  hath  given 
countenance  to  his  speech  with  almost  all  the  holy 
vows  of  heaven,"  -who  begs  "  dear  Ophelia  "  to 

"  Doubt  that  the  stars  are  fire ; 
Doubt  that  the  sun  doth  move ; 
Doubt  truth  to  be  a  liar ; 
But  never  doubt  I  love  ;  "  - 

who  over  her  grave  declares  "  that  forty  thousand 
brothers  could  not,  with  all  their  quantity  of  love,  make 
up  his  sum,"  and  who  immediately  upon  the  assump- 
tion of  madness  falls  to  such  perusal  of  Ophelia's  face 
"as  he  would  draw  it,"  and 

"  Raised  a  sigh  so  piteous  and  profound. 
As  it  did  seem  to  shatter  all  his  bulk 
And  end  his  being," 

must  be  a  much  more  intense  lover  than  actors  and 
Shakespearian  commentators  have  heretofore  admitted. 


92 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FE CUTER. 


If  words  mean  anything,  they  mean  that  Hamlet's 
passion  is  far  stronger  than  Ophelia's.  \\'ith  his  in- 
tellect and  unusual  depth  of  feeling  it  must  of  neces- 
sity be  so  ;  and  if  Ophelia  goes  mad,  it  is  because  she 
has  less  character  to  withstand  sorrow. 

Never  was  Fechter's  Hajiilct  at  any  time  really  mad, 
Coleridge  and  the  Kembles  (Charles  Kemble  excepted) 
to  the  contrary  notwithstanding.  He  carried  out  what 
Lowell  has  since  admirably  written  :  "  If  Shakespeare 
himself,  without  going  mad,  could  so  observe  and  re- 
member all  the  abnormal  symptoms  as  to  be  able  to 
reproduce  them  in  Hamlet,  why  should  it  be  beyond 
the  power  of  Hamlet  to  reproduce  them  in  himself? 
If  you  deprive  Hamlet  of  reason,  there  is  no  truly  tragic 
motive  left.  He  would  be  a  fit  subject  for  bedlam,  but 
not  for  the  stage.  We  might  have  pathology  enough,  but 
no  pathos.  Ajax  first  becomes  tragic  when  he  recovers 
his  wits.  If  Hamlet  is  irresponsible,  the  whole  play  is 
a  chaos.  That  he  is  not  so  might  be  proved  by  evi- 
dence enough,  were  it  not  labor  thrown  away." 

True  to  his  times,  Hamlet  does  not  scruple  to  take 
life  when  it  comes  between  him  and  the  work  of  his 
destiny.  "  By  Heaven,  I  '11  make  a  ghost  of  him  that 
lets  me,"  is  the  threat  launched  at  even  so  dear  a 
friend  as  Horatio.  "  I  find  thee  apt "  in  revenge,  says 
the  Ghost :  and  quicker  than  thought  Hamlet  dedicates 
his  life  to  one  fell  purpose,  beginning  by  wiping  away 
all  "trivial  fond  records," — Ophelia's  love.  Never- 
theless he  is  held  back  by  "  a  wise  skepticism,"  "  the 
first  attribute  of  a  good  critic,"  which  suggests  the  pos- 
sibility of  the  spirit's  being  a  devjl.     Fechter's  Hamlet 


CHARLES  ALBERT  EEC  LITER. 


93 


was  restrained  by  reasonable  doubt,  not  vacillation  of 
purpose,  and  no  sooner  caught  "  "  the  conscience  of 
the  King  "  than  he  could  drink  hot  blood.  He  did 
not  kill  the  King  at  prayers,  because  of  that  Catholic 
faith  which  would  send  this  same  villain  to  heaven,  and 
thus  kill  all  revenge,  which  is  the  motive  of  his  action. 

"  Would  I  had  met  my  dearest y^t?  in  heaven. 
Or  ever  I  had  seen  that  day,"  — 

his  mother's  second  wedding  day,  —  is  the  heaviest 
curse  that  Hamlet  can  invoke  upon  his  own  head. 
Would  he  then  be  likely  voluntarily  to  bring  about  its 
fulfilment?  He  keeps  himself  in  training  by  self-re- 
proach of  cowardice,  of  which  there  is  not  the  slightest 
evidence  in  deeds.  He  cannot,  as  he  has  promised 
the  Ghost, 

"  With  wings  as  swift 
As  meditation,  or  the  thoughts  of  love, 
.  .  rwccp  to  .  .  .  revenge," 

and  he  falls  "  a-cursing  like  a  very  drab,"'  unpacking 
his  '•  heart  with  words,"  as  such  natures  are  very  apt  to 
do  when  circumstances  stay  their  actions.  Without  a 
moment's  hesitation  he  stabs  Polonius,  but  repents  the 
deed,  and  is  engaged  in  drawing  aside  the  body  when 
he  is  seized  and  brought  guarded  before  the  King,  in 
which  condition  he  is  unarmed.  Hurried  with  "  fiery 
quickness  "  on  board  a  bark  for  England,  there  is  no 
opportunity  for  action  ;  but,  thoughts  being  bloody,  he 
forges  letters  whereby  Guildenstern  and  Rosencrantz 
—  "  they  are  not  near  my  conscience,"  pleads  Ham- 
let—  are   doomed  to  death  the   moment  thev  reach 


94 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


their  destination.  Chased  b)^  pirates,  Hamlet  alone 
becomes  their  prisoner,  and  returns  to  Denmark. 
Ho)-atio  goes  to  meet  him ;  and  as  they  tarry  in  a 
graveyard,  the  burial  of  Ophelia  drives  him  to  moment- 
ary frenzy.  A^'ithout  weapons,  he  cannot  then  and 
there  kill  the  King,  nor  is  the  most  desperate  mind 
controlled  by  more  than  one  great  passion  at  a  time.  In 
the  next  scene,  which  must  be  immediate,  —  as  not  till 
then  does  Hamlet  refer  to  his  escape  and  plot  against  his 
treacherous  fellow-students,  —  he  does  not  hesitate  to 
tell  Horatio  of  his  puqDose  to  "  quit  the  King  with  his 
arm  "  during  the  short  interval  that  must  elapse  ere  the 
fate  of  Giiilde?isteni  and  Roseucra7itz  is  known  in  Den- 
mark. Being  sorry  for  having  forgotten  himself  to 
Laertes,  whom  he  loves  and  whom  he  has  wronged,  he 
accepts  the  challenge  of  a  bout  at  fencing,  that  he  may 
then  and  there  apologize  to  the  brother  of  his  adoption, 
and  also  gain  easy  approach  to  his  intended  victim,  the 
King.  He  cannot  kill  the  Ki7jg  with  bated  rapier; 
but  the  moment  he  learns  that  the  weapon  in  his  hand 
is  unbated  and  envenomed,  Hamlet  stabs  the  evil 
genius  of  the  play.  The  King  has  no  doubt  of  Ham- 
lefs  capability  of  murder,  as  proved  by  his  saying  after 
hearing  of  the  death  of  Polonius,  "  It  had  been  so  with 
us,  had  we  been  there,"  and  by  his  haste  in  sending 
him  to  England. 

Such,  from  his  acting,  was  Fechter's  conception  of 
Hamlet,  sympathetic  to  me  in  all  things,  except  per- 
haps in  this  matter  of  vacillation ;  and  even  here  one 
may  make  out  a  strong  case.  The  only  lines  that  can 
be  quoted  against  Fechter's  theory  are  the  few  apper- 
taining to  the  Ghost's  reappearance. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  EECIITER.  ^r 

"Do  you  not  come  your  tardy  son  to  chide, 
That,  lapsed  in  time  and  passion,  lets  go  by 
Th'  important  acting  of  your  dread  command  ? 
O, say  !  " 

inquires  Hamlet. 

"  Ghost.     Do  not  forget.     This  visitation 
Is  but  to  whet  thy  almost  blunted  purpose." 

Hamlet  but  repeats  the  self-accusation  prompted 
by  over-sensibility  as  to  the  •  performance  of  an  awful 
duty. 

"Ah,  but  what  blunted  purpose  does  the  G/iost 
come  to  whet?"  asks  the  reader.  Suppose  this  visita- 
tion be  to  whet  Hamlefs  almost  blunted  purpose  of 
speaking  daggers,  but  using  none  ?  The  Ghost  unlike 
his  former  self,  says  not  one  word  about  Claudius.  He 
straightway  exhorts  Hamlet  to  step  between  his  mother 
and  her  fighting  soul !  ^^'hereupon  Hamlefs  tone 
changes  from  violent  denunciation  to  soft  questioning, 
"  How'  is  it  with  you,  lady?  "  One  moment  more  and 
the  passion  that  made  a  corpse  of  Poloniiis  might  have 
wreaked  \engeance  on  the  guilty  Queen ;  for  though 
Hamlet  declares  that  he  is  neither  splenitive  nor  rash, 
yet  is  there  "  something  dangerous  "  in  him,  a  some- 
thing tliat  might  have  led  him  to  strangle  Laertes  liad 
he  lost  entire  self-control.  That  the  Queen  believes 
her  son  capable  of  the  deed  is  seen  at  the  opening  of 
this  scene,  when  Hamlet  says  :  — 

"  Come,  come,  and  sit  you  down  ;  you  shall  not  budge  ; 
You  go  not,  till  I  set  you  up  a  glass 
Where  you  may  sec  the  inmost  part  of  you." 


96 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FEC LITER. 


These  are  not  desperate  words,  and  yet  the  Queen  cries 

out :  — 

"  What  wilt  thou  do  ?     Thou  wilt  not  murder  me  ? 
Help,  help,  ho !  " 

Killing  the  Queeji  was  not  impossible  to  the  Hamlet  of 
Fechter,  who  was  convinced  of  her  complicity  in  his 
father's  murder. 

"  O  Hamlet !  speak  no  more , 
Thou  turn'st  mine  eyes  into  my  very  soul ; 
And  there  I  see  such  black  and  grained  spots 
As  will  not  leave  their  tinct." 

Mere  marriage  with  a  brother-in-law,  even  after  two 
months  of  widowhood,  hardly  admits  of  so  fearful  a 
confession  ;  and  her  fear  of  being  murdered  by  Hamlet, 
leads  to  the  inference  that  she  knows  she  deserves  the 
punishment.  Further  coloring  for  this  hypothesis  may 
be  obtained  in  Hwilefs  response  to  the  Ghost :  — 

"  Do  not  look  upon  me  ; 
Lest,  with  this  piteous  action  you  convert 
My  stern  effects ;  then  what  have  I  to  do 
Will  want  true  colors ;  tears,  perchance,  for  blood." 

Surely  this  does  not  indicate  absence  of  will  on  Ham- 
let's part ;  and  as  stage  ghosts  always  produce  the 
effect  they  desire,  the  dead  king  attains  the  purpose 
of  his  "pale  glaring."  Certainly  he  had  no  such  tear- 
ful influence  over  Hamlet  during  the  first  interview. 
Is  the  object,  then,  the  same?  Indeed  it  would  seem 
not ;  and  since  I  find  Shakespeare  so  ready  to  agree 
with  Fechter,  I  doubt  my  ability  to  withhold  allegiance 
to  this  startling  innovation. 

The  critic  may  one  day  entertain  one  opinion  of 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


97 


Hamlet,  and  another  the  next ;  he  may  be  very  positive 
in  some  particulars,  and  not  quite  sure  in  others.  He 
can  leave  a  door  open  by  which  his  opinions  may  make 
a  dignified  exit,  should  an  intellectual  breeze  threaten  to 
overthrow  them ;  but  the  actor  enjoys  no  such  privi- 
lege. He  must  thoroughly  understand  his  intentions 
before  being  able  to  interpret  them.  He  must  feel 
certain  that,  according  to  his  light,  his  conception  is 
right,  or  he  cannot  render  it  with  force  or  send  convic- 
tion to  the  hearts  and  heads  of  his  audience.  l"he 
business  of  the  critic,  therefore,  in  this  matter  of  "  Ham- 
let," is  not  so  much  with  the  conception  of  the  character 
as  with  the  manner  in  which  the  actor's  conception  is 
carried  out.  If  it  is  consistent  from  beginning  to  end, 
if  it  takes  such  strong  hold  as  to  prevent  any  escape 
from  it,  if  its  great  power  absolutely  bullies  one  out  of 
cherished  theories,  if  its  humanity  makes  one  look 
back  upon  previous  Hamlets  as  so  many  lay-figures 
galvanized  into  spasmodic  action,  if  it  absorbs  attention 
and  creates  a  positive  sensation,  then  does  the  actor 
merit  critical  enthusiasm  ;  for  the  critic's  business  is  to 
appreciate,  to  appreciate  is  to  estimate  justly,  and  just 
estimation  calls  for  as  much  delight  at  what  is  fine  as 
disapprobation  of  what  is  false.  Fechter  produced  all 
these  effects.  He  was  great  not  only  in  his  originality 
but  in  his  rendering,  the  greatness  of  which  I  will  do 
my  poor  best  to  show  by  photographing  his  Hamlet 
in  such  details  as  are  food  for  critics  and  actors. 

Fcchter's  study  was  not  confined  to  his  own  part,  as 
was  seen  immediately  in  the  reading  of  Horatio,  upon 
the  entrance  of  the  Ghost :  — 


^8  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

"  But,  soft ;  behold  !  lo,  where  it  comes  again  ! 
I'll  cross  it,  though  it  blast  me.     Stay,  illusion  1 
If  thou  hast  any  sound,  or  use  of  voice, 
Speak  to  me.     (Ghost  stops.)" 

In  Pre-Fechterian  days  Horatio s  senselessly  crossed 
the  Ghosfs  path,  as  if  such  a  step  would  stay  its  pro- 
gress. Not  so  with  Fechter,  whose  Horatio  made  the 
sign  of  the  cross,  at  which  the  Ghost  stopped  as  a 
Catholic  ghost  should.  Once  interpreted  thus,  intelli- 
gence exclaims  "Of  course  !"  and  yet  Ho  ratios  have 
been  crossing  the  stage  for  three  hundred  years  ! 

He  was  gloomy  enough,  was  Fechter's  Hatnlet,  as 
he  sat  beside  his  mother,  —  starting  when  the  King  ad- 
dressed him  as  "  our  son,''  yet  gently  exclaiming  while 
kissing  the  Queen's  hand  with  courtly  grace,  and  giving 
by  almost  imperceptible  accent  a  key  to  the  estimate 
in  which  he  held  his  uncle-father, 

"I  shall  in  all  my  best  oh&^ you,  madam." 

Left  to  himself,  he  gazed  fondly  at  his  father's  portrait, 
worn  about  his  neck,  and  illustrated  the  beautiful  apos- 
trophe by  reference  to  it.  Thus  did  Fechter  prepare 
his  audience  for  the  text.  Misunderstanding  was  im- 
possible. His  Hamlet  deceived  no  one.  He  was  as 
honest  as  the  day  is  light.  He  drew  his  lines  plainly 
between  friend  and  acquaintance,  and  his  fondness  for 
Horatio  was  strongly  defined  from  the  moment  of  meet- 
ing. There  were  three  distinct  shades  of  tone  in  "  My 
good  friend  ''  (meaning  Horatio),  "  I  am  very  glad  to 
see  you"  (meaning  Marcellus),  and  "Good  even,  sir" 
(meaning  Bernardo).      Hamlet  wasted   no  affection. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  EEC  LITER. 


99 


He  was  generous ;  but  he  was  losing  faith  in  mankind, 
and  trusted  few. 

An  expression  of  great  and  tender  beauty  passed 
over  Fechter's  face  as,  with  clasped  hands,  he  mur- 
mured 

"  My  father,  —  methinks  I  see  my  father ;  " 

while  there  was  filial  pride  in  his  explanation,  with 
hand  upon  Horatio's  shoulder, 

"  He  was  a  mati :  take  him  for  all  in  all, 
I  shall  not  look  upon  his  like  again." 

When  Horatio  described  his  encounter  with  the 
Ghost,  Fechter  crossed  his  hands  the  moment  his 
father  was  mentioned,  as  if  praying  for  the  unhappy 
spirit.  The  action  was  entirely  natural  to  a  Catholic. 
Appealingly  sweet  was  his 

"  Did  you  not  speak  to  it  ? " 

addressed  to  Marceilus,  to  which  his  Horatio  replied, 

"My  lord, /did." 

Doubting,  not  willing  to  believe  without  strong  evidence, 
he  gave  the  line,  "  Then  saw  you  not  his  face  ?  "  as  if 
it  read  "  Then  you  did  not  see  his  face  ;  "  which  seems 
reasonable  from  Horatio's  answer  :  — 

"  O  yes,  my  lord,  he  wore  his  beaver  up. 


Hamlet.     I  would  /  had  been  there. 
Horatio.     It  would  have  much  amazed  you. 
Hamlet.     Very  like,  verj-  like." 

These  lines  have  alwa)^  been  given  as  a  response  to 
Horatio.     Fechter,  meditating  on  the  startling  mteUi- 


100  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

gence  that  the  apparition  wore  his  beaver  up,  mur- 
mured "Very  like,"  as  if  the  sentence  read,  "Very 
like  —  my  father."  Of  course  the  Ghost  wovXA  amaze 
Hamlet.  He  is  already  amazed, —  therefore  the  "  very 
like  "  fits  far  more  gracefully  into  Fechter's  setting. 
Tears  filled  his  eyes  as  he  asked, 

"  Stayed  it  long  ?  " 

When  Ha7nlet,  Horatio,  and  Marcelhis  appear  in  the 
fourth  scene,  Fechter  caused  Hamlet  to  come  from  an 
opposite  direction.  Why?  Because  he  had  previously 
said  that  he  would  visit  them  "  upon  the  platform, 
'twixt  eleven  and  twelve."  They  meet  for  the  first 
time,  and  the  dialogue  says  as  much.  Strange  that  it 
took  a  Frenchman  to  find  this  out. 

-Enveloped  in  a  gray  picturesque  cloak  and  black 
velvet  cowl,  Fechter's  Hamlet  dropped  the  former, 
and,  with  hands  on  Horatio  at  sight  of  the  Ghost,  de- 
livered the  invocation  with  solemn  tender  earnestness, 
removing  the  cowl  at  the  word  king,  and  throwing  a 
filial  pathos  into  father. 

"  Go  on,  /'ll  follow  thee." 

His  exit  was  slow,  but  in  no  way  unnaturally  measured, 
—  with  sword  unsheathed  and  held  in  the  left  hand  as 
if  it  were  a  cross. 

"  Alas,  />oor  ghost !  " 

was  given  with  pitying  sweetness  of  tone.  Kneeling  at 
the  words,  "  I  am  thy  father's  spirit,"  Fechter  did  not 
rise  until  the  adjuration,  "  Haste  me  to  know,"  etc. ; 
and  though  his  back  was  turned  to  the  audience  during 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER,  iqi 

the  Ghosfs  confession,  there  was  much  expression  in 
his  pantomime.  Nevertheless,  but  for  the  exceedingly 
clever  management  of  the  Ghosfs  instantaneous  dis- 
appearance, —  the  invention  being  Fechter's,  —  it  was 
a  pity  to  lose  the  play  of  feature  which  Fechter  could 
have  thrown  into  his  eager,  listening  silence.  He  bowed 
profoundly  at  the  Ghosfs,  "  Fare  thee  well  at  once  !  " 
and  when  Horatio  called  without,  "  Heaven  secure 
him  ! "  meaning  Hamlet,  Fechter,  intent  upon  the 
Ghost,  prayerfully  added  "So  be  it,"  —  turning  the 
words  to  a  deeper  significance  than  they  had  ever  pos- 
sessed. What  immediately  followed  was  no  less  admi- 
rably treated.  Horatio  alone  was  his  valued  friend, 
Horatio  alone  had  so  far  sworn  not  to  reveal  the  news, 
and  Hamlet  hurriedly  began  to  tell  his  story,  "  There  's 
ne'er  a  \illain  dwelling  in  all  Denmark,"  —  when, 
suddenly  remembering  and  doubting  Marcellus,  he 
turned  from  his  purpose  and  added,  "  but  he  's  an  arrant 
knave ;  "  at  which  platitude  Horatio  has  reason  to 
criticise  his  friend.     The  line, 

"  Vou,  as  your  business  and  desire  shall  point  you," 

was  addressed  to  Marcellus.  Hamlefs  "wild  and 
whirling  "  words  were  because  of  his  presence.  He  was 
talking  to  conceal  thought.  Taking  Horatio's  hand 
(according  to  stage  direction)  he  remarked  to  him, 

"Touching  this  vision  here, — 
It  is  an  honest  ghost,  that  let  me  tell  you." 

Then,  looking  at  Marcellus,  he  continued, 

"  Tor  your  desire  to  know  what  is  between  us, 
O'ermaster  it  as  you  may." 


102 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


Fechter's  Hamlet  did  not  insult  Horatio  by  assum- 
ing superior  wisdom  and  exclaiming,  "  There  are  more 
things  in  heaven  and  earth,  Horatio,  than  are  dreamt  of 
Vii  your  philosophy,"  but  dJZZ&xAQ^  philosophy,  by  which 
the  pronoun  possessed  the  same  significance  as  when 
Edmund  Kean  substituted  our  for  your. 

With  arm  linked  in  Horatio's,  Hamlet  said,  "  Let  us 
go  in  together,"  and  leaving  Marcel lus  down  the  stage 
addressed  to  him  the  parting  injunction,  "And  still 
your  fingers  on  your  lips,  I  pray."  The  hne  is  cer- 
tainly intended  for  Marcellus,  who  cannot  be  included 
in  Hatnlefs  invitation,  inasmuch  as,  after  the  exit, 
Hamlet  must  impart  the  Ghosfs  secret  to  Horatio, 
the  two  friends  not  meeting  again  until  the  third  act, 
when  Ha7nlet,  in  referring  to  the  play,  says,  — 

"  One  scene  of  it  comes  near  the  circumstance 
^Yhich  I  have  told  thee,  of  my  father's  dearh." 

If  circumstantial  evidence  proves  aught,  it  proves  the 
truth  of  Fechter's  conception.  There  was  no  ranting 
in  his  rendering  of  the  couplet, 

"  The  time  is  out  of  joint,"  etc. 

Its  power  was  in  its  concentrated  desperation. 

The  admirable  shades  and  touches  in  the  second 
act  were  equally  pertinent.  Dialogue  never  received 
more  varied  or  more  thoughtful  treatment.  Polonius 
never  attempted  to  master  such  keen  madness.  "  Con- 
ception is  a  blessing ;  but  as  your  daughter  may  con- 
ceive,—  friend,  look  to  't."  It  was  a  mad  laugh  that 
followed  "  friend."  Hamlet  pointed  to  his  open  book 
as  he  muttered,  "  look  to  't ; "  and  Polonius,  Uteral  in  all 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


103 


things,  ran  his  eye  over  the  page  to  learn  the  "  cause 
of  this  defect."  Hajulct  watched  him  narrowly,  as  if 
to  see  how  the  simulated  madness  took  effect,  when 
the  old  man  delivered  his  side  speech  beginning,  "  How 
pregnant  sometimes  his  replies  are  !  "  and  there  was  a 
world  of  weariness  pent  up  in  his  reiterated  exclama- 
tion, "  Except  my  life  !  "  Tired,  tired,  tired  !  Revenge 
and  sorrow  were  never  nature's  heritage  to  such  as  he. 
Too  brave,  too  conscientious  to  shake  duty  off,  rehef 
was  sought  in  word  and  expression. 

Hamlet's  reception  of  Roseiicrautz  and  Guildcnstern 
was  most  cordial,  until  he  saw  his  uncle's  portrait  around 
the  neck  of  the  latter;  then  expression  and  manner 
changed,  and  the  question,  "  Were  you  not  sent  for?  " 
was  put  eagerly,  with  suspicion  of  foul  play  which  waxed 
stronger  as  he  bade  them  speak  "  to  the  purpose." 
Words  mean  something  when  thus  interpreted.  Ham- 
let's rejoinder,  "  And  those  that  would  make  mouths 
at  him  while  my  father  lived,  give  tAventy,  forty,  fifty,  an 
hundred  ducats  apiece  for  his  picture  in  Uttle,"  was 
illustrated  by  his  taking  up  the  picture  pendent  from 
Guildensteni s  neck.  Upon  dropping  it,  he  crossed  to 
the  right,  and  made  an  "aside,"  perfectly  comprehen- 
sible to  all,  of  the  succeeding  sentence,  "  There  is 
something  in  this  more  than  natural,  if  philosophy 
could  find  it  out."  Were  audiences  given  to  acute 
criticism,  and  did  reason  rule  the  day,  theatres  would 
resound  with  bravos  at  such  renderings  as  this,  rather 
than  at  the  tearing  of  passion  to  tatters. 

One  knew  by  the  tender  music  of  Hamlet's  voice  in 
exclaiming,   "O   Jephthah,   Judge   of  Israel,  what   a 


104 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


treasure  hadst  thou  !  "  that  his  thoughts  were  with  "  the 
fair  OpheHa,"  and  it  was  this  memory  that  rendered 
him  so  gentle  in  checking  Polonius  for  interrupting  the 
player.  Hushing  him,  commanding  silence  by  putting 
finger  on  lips  with  as  much  kindliness  as  if  the  old 
courtier  were  indeed  a  big  baby,  Hamlet  took  up  the 
text,  "  So  ;  proceed  you,"  and  for  the  first  time  the  little 
word  so  was  set  in  its  proper  action.  Hamlet  lis- 
tened with  such  interest  to  the  Actor's  speech  as  to 
accompany  it  with  unconscious  pantomine  and  silent 
repetition  of  the  words ;  but  this  was  not  original 
with  Fechter,  Garrick  having  done  the  same. 

"  But  who,  all,  woe  !  had  seen  the  mobled  queen." 

"  The  mobled  queen  ! "  repeated  Fechter's  Hamlet, 
thinking  of  his  mother  ;  and,  struck  by  the  coincidence, 
became  so  absorbed  as  to  leave  Polonius  unchecked 
when  he  again  interrupted  the  First  Actor.  There  was 
genuine  respectful  sympathy  in  Hamlefs  manner  of 
instructing  that  the  players  be  well  treated  ;  such  s)^!!- 
pathy  as,  if  prevalent  in  society,  would  raise  the  stage 
to  its  proper  level,  —  beside  the  pulpit.  Equally  won- 
derful in  its  humanity  was  the  pity  breathing  through 
Hamlefs  command  to  the  first  actor,  that  Polonius  be 
not  mocked. 

The  tremendous  soliloquy  closing  this  act  was  mar- 
vellous in  variety.  Its  gradual  crescendo  and  diminu- 
endo were  most  artistic,  while  the  climax, 

"  The  play  's  the  thing. 
Wherein  I  '11  catch  the  conscience  of  the  King." 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


105 


came  like  a  sudden  revelation  to  a  tortured  brain,  and 
was  clutched  at  (if  I  may  say  so)  with  all  the  energy 
with  which  nature  seizes  upon  forlorn  hopes. 

Fechter  pointed  the  moral  of  the  soliloquy,  "  To  be 
or  not  to  be,"  by  bringing  on  an  unsheathed  sword,  as 
if  he  had  again  been  contemplating  the  suicide  that 
would  free  him  from  his  oath. 

Very  beautiful  and  equally  original  was  Hamlcfs 
scene  with  Ophelia.  He  was  a  lover  the  moment  his 
eyes  fell  upon  her,  and  he  cast  aside  every  semblance 
of  madness  until  Ophelia  returned  his  letters,  when  the 
change  of  Fechter's  expression  was  as  great  as  the 
change  of  language ;  but  when  listening  to  the  gentle 
maiden's  reproaches,  there  was  pictured  such  agonized 
regret,  at  throAving  away  every  chance  of  happiness,  as 
made  the  heart  ache,  for  Fechter's  Hamlet  was  always 
real,  always  a  suffering  man,  never  an  actor. 

How  pantomine  illuminates  a  sentence  was  seen 
in  ffa7nlcf's  reference  to  the  power  of  Beauty,  which 
"  will  sooner  transform  Honesty  from  what  it  is  to  a 
bawd,  than  the  force  of  Honesty  can  translate  Beauty 
into  his  likeness ;  this  was  sometimes  a  paradox,"  — 
here  Fechter  paused,  looked  sadly  at  the  letters  in  his 
hand  returned  by  the  woman  Hamlet  loved,  and  then 
added,  —  "  but  no7v  the  time  gives  it  proof."  Still  his 
heart  was  bursting  to  speak  the  truth,  and  the  confes- 
sion, "  I  did  love  you  once,"  was  given  with  tearful 
eyes  and  choked  utterance.  When  Ophelia  exclaimed, 
"  I  was  the  more  deceived,"  Fechter's  tender  action, 
unseen  by  her,  denoted  that  he  must  fold  her  in  his 
arms ;  but,  forced  to  restraint,  he  honestly,  earnestly 


I06  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

begged  her  to  get  to  a  nunnery,  as  the  only  sanctuary 
worthy  of  her.  Then  seeing  Polonius,  he,  to  test  Ophe- 
lia's truthfuhiess,  asked,  "  W'here  's  your  father?  "  and, 
finding  her  false,  burst  into  frenzied  raving,  intended 
far  more  for  the  ears  of  her  father  than  for  the  helpless 
creature  trembling  before  him.  Again  subdued  by  love, 
Hamlet  approached  Ophelia  with  extended  arms,  almost 
embraced  her,  but,  recollecting  that  he  was  watched  by 
Polonius,  cried  pathetically,  "  To  a  nunnery,  go,"  and, 
thoroughly  overcome,  rushed  off  the  stage.  In  this 
scene  Fechter  did  not  allow  Hamlet  to  see  the  King, 
for  this  espionage  would  so  convince  him  of  his  uncle's 
guilt  as  to  render  the  play  unnecessary. 

Nothmg  could  be  finer  of  its  kind  than  Fechter's  in- 
telligent and  colloquial  delivery  of  Hamlefs  advice  to 
the  players  ;  and  in  this  connection  it  should  be  stated 
that  he  was  the  first  to  introduce  a  boy  with  chopins,  in 
lieu  of  a  woman  actress.^ 

Hamlet  gazed  fondly  at  Ophelia  when  announcing 
the  Court's  coming  to  the  play,  showing  first  the  lover 
before  putting  on  the  mask. 

"  I  eat  the  air,  promise-crammed  ;  you  cannot  feed 
capons  so,"  said  Hamlet. 

"  I  have  nothing  with  this  answer,  Hamlet ;  these 
words  are  not  mine,"  rejoined  the  King. 

"  No,  nor  mine,  now ;  "  and  Fechter,  by  an  exquisite 
action  of  the  hand,  made  you  see  why  those  words  were 

1  It  may  be  said  of  Fechter,  as  Hazlitt  said  of  Kean,  that  if 
Shakespeare  had  written  marginal  directions  to  tlie  players,  in 
the  manner  of  German  dramatists,  he  would  often  have  directed 
them  to  do  what  Fechter  did. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER. 


107 


no  longer  his.  They  had  passed  into  the  air  for  all 
time,  and  belonged  to  space.  Pantomime  has  its  prose 
and  its  poetry.     This  action  was  rhythmic. 

He  never  forgot  to  spare  Polonius  in  the  presence 
of  others.  "  I  did  enact  JuHus  Ctesar,"  maunders 
the  old  man.  "  I  was  killed  i'  the  capital ;  Brutus 
killed  me."  •• 

"  It  was  a  brute  part  of  him,"  Hcvnkt  replied,  and 
then,  walking  away,  added  as  an  aside, "  to  kill  so  capi- 
tal a  calf  there."  The  very  word  there  suggests  this 
treatment  of  the  sentence,  and  yet  again  Fechter  dis- 
covered it. 

"  Nay,  then,  let  the  Devil  wear  black,  for  I  '11  have  a 
suit  of  sables,"  reads  the  customary  text ;  but  what 
said  Fechter  ?  "  Let  the  Devil  wear  black  'fore  /  '11 
have  a  suit  of  sable."  The  mystery  is  solved  at  once, 
and,  turning  to  the  Folio  Shakespeare,  the  line  is  so 
written  down.  As  the  Folio  is  supposed  to  have  been 
printed  from  a  playhouse  copy,  Fechter's  version  was 
probably  as  correct  as  it  was  intelligible. 

"Ophelia.  'Tis  brief,  my  lord. 
Ilamld.  As  woman's  love." 

Most  Hamlets  insult  Ophelia  by  hurling  this  reply  at 
her.  Fechter  gave  it  as  if  communing  with  his  own 
thoughts,  and  looked  the  while  toward  his  mother. 
"  That 's  wormwood,"  was  addressed  to  Horatio  ;  and, 
"  If  she  should  break  it  now,"  to  King  and  Queen. 

Admirable  was  Fechter's  action  after  the  discovery 
and  call  for  "  lights."  Throughout  the  play  Hamlet 
had  lain  at  Ophelia^ s  feet,  but  had  amused  himself  (so 


I08  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

reads  the  conventional  stage  business)  with  nothing, 
not  even  with  the  specified  fan.  Before  him  lay  the 
text  of  tlie  play,  which  he  followed  closely,  thus  antici- 
pating it  and  watching  the  effect  upon  the  royal  pair. 
Discovery  made  and  audience  gone,  Fechter  tore  the 
leaves  from  his  play-book  and  scattered  them  in  the 
air,  as  he  rose  and  delivered  the  well-known  quatrain. 
His  utterance  was  rapid  ;  excitement  at  last  rendered  it 
thick.  The  blood  rushed  to  his  head,  he  put  his  hand 
to  his  throat  as  if  choking.  "  Ah,  ha  !  "  became  a  gasp  ; 
he  leaned  upon  Horatio  and,  for  relief,  for  solace, 
called  for  music.  There  was  no  bridging  over  an  inex- 
plicable chasm,  such  as  we  have  seen  from  childhood. 
It  was  perfect  nature.  Upon  the  entrance  of  Giiildcn- 
stern  and  Rosencraiitz,  Ha7nlct  fell  into  a  chair  from 
exhaustion,  until  his  mother's  name  was  mentioned, 
when,  out  of  that  courtesy  which  was  rarely  forgotten, 
he  rose. 

Guildc7istcrn,  with  the  locket  about  his  neck,  was 
far  more  hateful  to  Hamlet  than  the  less  treacherous 
Rosencrantz. 

"  Hamlet.  Sir,  I  cannot. 

"  Guildenstern.  What,  my  lord  ? 

"  Hamlet.  Make  you  a  wholesome  answer ;  .  .  .  but,  sir,  such 
answer  as  I  can  make,  you  shall  command ;  or  rather,  as  you 
say,  my  mother  ;  therefore,  no  more,  but  to  the  matter :  my 
mother,  you  say  — 

"  Rosencrantz.  Then,  thus  she  says :  your  behavior  hath 
struck  her  into  amazement  and  admiration." 

Here  Ha7nlct  snubbed  Guildenstem,  and  "  my  motlier, 
you  say,"  was  addressed  to  Rosencrantz,  who  immedi- 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER. 


109 


ately  took  up  the  thread  of  argument  as  shown.  Haz- 
litt  declares  that  acting  Hafnlet  is  Uke  the  attempt  to 
embody  a  shadow.  He  would  never  have  made  this 
statement  had  he  seen  Fechter's  key  to  the  character. 

The  whole  scene  with  the  Queen  was  one  panorama 
of  tragic  pictures.  Haxing  killed  Polonius,  Fechter 
elaborated  Shakespeare's  few  words  by  the  agony  of 
his  expression  at  having  made  so  fatal  a  mistake,  and 
by  throwing  away  his  sword  that  it  might  not  be 
repeated. 

The  excitement  produced  by  the  Ghost's  appear- 
ance yielded  to  regret  at  his  departure  ;  and  there  was 
also  a  tenderness  toward  his  guilty  mother,  who  finally 
knelt  before  him,  being  raised  up  gently  at  the  words, 
"  Confess  yourself  to  Heaven,"  etc.  When  Hamlet 
bade  her  good-night,  she  attempted  to  bless  him,  but 
was  firmly,  not  unkindly,  repelled.  This  action  was 
followed  by  the  lines, 

"  And  when  you  are  desirous  to  be  blessed, 
I  '11  blessing  beg  of  you." 

Before  the  sobbing  Queen  retired,  she  once  more  turned 
to  her  son,  exclaiming,  "  Hamlet  "  (this  was  Fechter's 
introduction),  and  stretched  out  her  hands  for  a  filial 
embrace.  Hamlet  held  up  his  father's  picture,  the  sight 
of  which  spoke  volumes  to  the  wretched  woman,  who 
staggered  fi-om  the  stage.  Kissing  this  picture,  Ham- 
let murmured  sadly, 

"  I  must  be  cruel,  only  to  be  kind  ;  " 

then,  taking  light  in  hand  and  raising  the  arras,  gazed 
at  Folonius,  exclaiming, 

"  Thus  bad  begins,  and  worse  remains  behind." 


no  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

After  the  third  act  Ha7nlet  is  but  half  his  former 
self.  The  actor  would  wiUingly  stop  short,  leaving  the 
last  two  acts  to  the  imagination,  and  in  the  present 
condition  of  stock  companies  the  critic  would  gladly 
assent  to  curtailment ;  but  it  must  be  five  acts  or 
nothing,  and  patience  endures  to  the  last.  Fechter's 
treatment  of  the  King,  in  the  fourth  act,  was  that  of 
undisguised  contempt.  "  If  your  messenger  find  him 
\_Polonms\  not  there  [in  heaven],  seek  him  in  the 
other  place  yourself;  "  and  it  was  seen  that  if  ffamkt 
were  not  guarded,  he  would  then  and  there  have  sent 
the  Kingio  "the  other  place"  in  search  of  his  courtier. 

When  Fechter  produced  "  Hamlet "  in  his  own  the- 
atre, the  time  of  the  churchyard  scene  was  that  of  a 
brilliant  sunset,  making  a  fine  contrast  between  the 
thoughtless  joy  of  nature  and  the  grief  of  humanity. 
Moreover,  it  is  neither  customary  nor  practicable  to  dig 
graves  by  the  fickle  light  of  the  moon  feebly  assisted 
by  one  small  lantern ;  and  when  truth  is  compatible 
with  art,  —  for  my  part,  I  believe  the  two  walk  hand  in 
hand,  —  it  should  be  adhered  to.  Fechter's  apostro- 
phe to  poor  Yorick  was  singularly  tender :  "  Here 
hung  those  lips,  that  I  have  kissed  I  know  not  how 
oft ;  "  and  Fechter  carried  the  skull  almost  to  his  lips, 
when  he  put  it  away  with  a  shiver.  From  time  imme- 
morial Ophelia's  body  has  been  borne  from  church  to 
churchyard,  when  the  text  tells  us  that  her  burial  in 
sanctified  ground  is  granted  under  protest. 

"  She  is  allowed  her  virgin  crants, 
Her  maiden  strewments,  and  the  bringing  home 
Of  bell  and  burial. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER.  i  i  j 

We  should  profane  the  service  of  the  dead 
To  sing  a  requiem,  and  such  rest  to  her 
As  to  peace-parted  souls." 

Hence  Fechter  caused  Ophelia  to  be  brought  through 
the  churchyard  gateway,  and  the  oflficiating  priest  wore 
none  of  the  insignia  of  his  office. 

"  What,  the  fair  Ophelia  ?  " 

and,  overwhehiied  \\\\\\  agony,  Hamld  fell  on  his 
knees  beside  a  tomb  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 
In  the  controversy  between  Hamlet  and  Laertes,  Ma- 
cready  and  Kemble  leaped  into  the  gr-ave,  and  there 
went  through  the  grappling  in  true  Punch  and  Judy 
fashion.  The  illustrious  example  has  been  often  fol- 
lowed ;  but  Fechter  wisely  abstained  from  the  absurd- 
ity, not  approaching  the  grave  until  his  last  word  was 
spoken,  when,  gazing  in  agony  at  the  gaping  void  and 
at  Ophelia's  corse,  he  was  dragged  off  the  stage  by 
Horatio. 

In  the  art  of  fencing  Fechter  was  consummate ; 
consequently  the  final  scene  was  full  of  spirit  and  in- 
terest. His  arrangement  of  the  stage  was  likewise  ad- 
mirable. In  the  background  ran  a  gallery,  to  which  a 
short  flight  of  stairs  led  on  each  side  of  the  stage,  and 
by  which  all  exits  and  entrances  were  made.  To  the 
left  stood  the  throne,  where  sat  the  King.  The  mo- 
ment Hamlet  exclaimed, 

"  IIo  !  let  the  door  be  locked. 
Treachery!  seek  it  out." 

the  King  exhibited  signs  of  fear ;  and,  while  Laertes 
made  his  terrible  confession,  the  regicide  stole  to  the 


112      CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

opposite  stairs,  shielding  himself  from  HamleVs  obser- 
vation behind  a  group  of  courtiers,  who,  paralyzed  with 
horror,  failed  to  remark  the  action.  Laretes  no  sooner 
uttered  the  words,  "The  King  's  to  blame,"  than  Ham- 
let turned  suddenly  to  the  tlirone  in  search  of  his  victim. 
Discovering  the  ruse,  he  rushed  up  the  left-hand  stairs, 
met  the  King  in  the  centre  of  the  gallerj'^,  and  stabbed 
him.  It  would  be  difficult  to  conceive  a  more  eifective 
manner  of  despatching  Claudius,  or  one  more  in  har- 
mony with  good  taste.  He  was  not  butchered  as  in 
the  old  "business,"  and  the  stage  was  reUeved  of  one 
dead  body.  As  he  descended  the  stairs  the  potent 
poison  stole  upon  Ha7nlet,  who,  murmuring  "  The  rest 
is  silence,"  fell  dead  on  the  corpse  of  Laertes,  thus 
showing  his  forgiveness  of  treachery  and  remembrance 
of  Ophelia.  There  was  no  contortion  in  Fechter's 
manner  of  dpng.  Edmund  Kean  was  no  doubt  right 
in  illustrating  a  death  by  poison  ;  but  if  Hamlet  dies 
thus,  surely  Laertes  must  meet  his  doom  in  like  man- 
ner. Two  such  exhibitions  would  be  beyond  human 
endurance  ;  and,  as  Laertes  dies  first,  Hamlefs  effects 
would  be  lost.  Therefore  Fechter  was  not  without 
reason  in  abstaining  from  literalness. 

Does  not  the  photogi'aph,  dim  as  it  is,  show  Fech- 
ter's power  in  Hamlet?  Does  it  not  give  evidence  of 
ideas  and  ideality? 

The  fair  hair  of  Fechter's  Hamlet  was  not  an  origi- 
nal conception,  though  from  the  criticisms  one  might 
have  imagined  as  much.  Goethe  declares  that  "  as  a 
Dane,  as  a  Northman,  Hamlet  is  fair-haired  and  blue- 
eved  bv  descent."     "  Absurd  !  "  cries  a  voice  ;  "  how 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


113 


is  this  possible,  when  we  are  distinctly  told  that  his 
father's  hair  is  'sable  silvered  '?  "  Does  it  follow  that 
Hamlet  the  younger  must  therefore  be  dark  haired? 
To  my  way  of  thinking,  Fechter,  when  he  first  arrived  in 
this  country,  gave  us  the  ideal  Havilet,  who,  with  all  his 
manly  beauty,  "  is  fat  and  scant  of  breath."  "  Brown- 
complexioned  people  in  their  youth  are  seldom  plump," 
argues  Goethe.  Fechter  was  thoroughly  manly,  as 
Hatnlef,  who  is  much  given  to  exercise,  should  be.  No 
contrary  opinion  can  take  comfort  in  Hamlcfs  declara- 
tion, that  Claudius  is  no  more  like  his  father  than  he  to 
'  Hercules  ;  for  Hercules  performed  such  feats  of  prow- 
ess as  astounded  both  gods  and  men.  Fechter  was 
robust  without  being  unpleasantly  so ;  he  was  graceful, 
supple  as  an  athlete,  courdy,  wondrously  picturesque  ; 
and  his  beautiful  flaxen  wig  so  transformed  his  coloring 
as  to  cause  his  dark-hazel  eyes  to  be  mistaken  for  blue. 

There  has  been  something  said  of  Fechter's  liberties 
with  Shakespeare's  language.  Curious  to  know  how 
much  truth  lay  in  this  accusation,  I  have  followed  him, 
while  acting,  with  book  in  hand.  Fechter  spoke  no 
more  than  was  set  down  to  him,  —  nor  less.  He  was 
what  is  called,  in  stage  parlance,  "letter  perfect." 
There  w^ere  a  few  trips  of  accent,  —  very  few,  —  made 
with  the  lips  entirely ;  for  when  the  offending  passages 
were  aftenvards  sho\ni  to  Fechter,  he  spoke  them  cor- 
rectly, showing  that  the  head  had  not  been  at  fault. 
And  here  lies  the  secret  of  the  charge  that  Fechter 
had  no  settled  convictions  as  to  the  reading  of  Hamlet. 
Rarely  repeating  the  same  error,  he  supplemented  it 
wath  another,  —  as,  for  example, 

"  O  horrible,  horrible,  most  horrible  !  " 


114 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FE CUTER. 


intending  "  w^^j'/ horrible,"  and  so  delivering  the  passage 
on  the  following  performance.  These  were  slight  blem- 
ishes to  weigh  against  a  beautiful  work  of  art. 

"  When  reason  yields  to  passion's  wild  alarms, 
And  the  whole  state  of  man  is  up  in  arms, 
What  but  a  critic  would  condemn  the  player 
For  pausing  here,  when  cool  sense  pauses  there  ? 
Whilst,  working  from  the  heart,  the  fire  I  trace. 
And  mark  it  strongly  flaming  to  the  face  ;' 
Whilst  in  each  sound  I  hear  the  very  man, 
I  can't  catch  words,  and  pity  those  who  can.'" 

Nor  is  there  much  more  foundation  for  the  accusa- 
tion of  "  cutting  "  Shakespeare.  No  actor  has  ever 
spoken  the  whole  of  Hantlet.  Betterton  took  many 
liberties ;  and  what  Garrick  did  finally  shall  be  referred 
to.  When  the  latter  performed  this  character  in  Dub- 
lin, an  Irish  critic  suggested  the  advisability  of  his 
leaving  out  Hamkfs  "  abominable "  soliloquy  while 
the  King  is  at  prayers.  Garrick  carried  out  the  sug- 
gestion, and  not  until  recently  has  it  been  restored  to 
English  theatres.  Fechter's  version  was  that  of  Kem- 
ble  and  of  the  stage.  If,  in  the  last  act,  he  did  not  al- 
ways deliver  the  frenzied  speech  addressed  to  Laertes, 
and  cut  short  his  dying  words,  it  was  because  of  excep- 
tional circumstances. 

Whether  there  ever  lived  a  thoroughly  satisfactory 
Hamlet  is  extremely  doubtful.  Wliat  Burbage  was, 
nobody  knows.  What  Betterton  made  of  the  character 
it  is  possible  to  conceive ;  for,  with  all  Gibber's  praise 
of  this  actor,  Quin  owned  that  he  "  would  not  go  down 
in  Garrick's  days,"  —  and  as  Quin  himself,  grounded  on 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER.  n^ 

Booth's  and  Betterton's  school,  died  artistically  as  soon 
as  Garrick's  genius  illuminated  the  English  stage,  the 
critic  has  very  grave  doubts  as  to  any  standard  set  up 
by  Gibber,  who  showed  his  bad  taste  by  cordially  hat- 
ing Garrick's  acting.  Then  as  to  Garrick's  Hamkt,  it 
comes  in  "  questionable  shape  ;  "  for,  though  the  great 
little  man  was  the  first  to  produce  the  play  in  1742, 
shorn  of  every  objectionable  word  and  the  traditional 
music,  he  gave  the  address  to  the  players  like  a  peda- 
gogue, —  walked  backward  and  forward,  twirling  a  white 
handkerchief,  while  exclaiming, 

"  Some  must  laugh,  while  some  must  weep," 

and  performed  other  antics  hardly  compatible  with 
Shakespeare's  Dane.  That  he  failed  to  appreciate 
the  character  is  evident  from  the  manner  in  which 
he  slaughtered  the  play  thirty  years  after,  when  he 
"  improved  "  Shakespeare  out  of  sight  in  the  last  acts, 
and  contemplated  turning  the  grave-diggers  and  Osric, 
"  the  Danish  macaroni,"  into  a  farce  !  Yet  this  "mass 
of  deformity  "  held  the  stage  eight  years  with  a  Ham- 
let that  exemplified  the  theory  of  perpetual  motion  ! 
Cooke  in  Hamlet  was  "  one  mass  of  awkward  er- 
ror ;  "  neither  does  Kemble,  nor  does  the  elder  Kean, 
owe  his  fame  to  his  personation  of  the  character. 
Knowing  this,  Fechter  acquires  additional  respect  for 
his  rendition  of  Hamlet. 

Possessing  good  height,  small  hands  and  feet,  a  face 
so  like  Garrick's  in  contour  and  complexion  as  in  a 
Garrick  wig  to  render  the  resemblance  astonishing,  and 
so  wonderful  in  expression  as,  like  Talma's  to  need  but 


Il6      CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

the  passing  of  a  hand  to  transform  broad  comedy  into 
deepest  tragedy ;  with  a  large  magnetic  ever-changing 
hazel  eye,  with  pantomime  that  rivalled  Ristori's,  with  a 
rich  melodious  voice  that  ran  the  gamut  of  tlie  passions, 
with  abundant  sentiment  and  humor  equally  developed, 
with  a  sculptor's  knowledge  of  form,  a  painter's  love  of 
costume  and  color,  and  a  Frenchman's  education  in 
the  best  school  of  acting,  Fechter  took  his  place  among 
the  few  great  actors  of  the  world.  With  regard  to  his 
pronunciation  of  English  there  was  really  very  little  fault 
to  be  found.  In  private  it  rarely  occurred  to  the  most 
careful  listeners  that  Fechter  was  not,  so  far  as  con- 
cerns accent,  an  EngUshman.  On  the  stage,  however, 
there  were  times  when,  if  he  did  not  feel  well,  his 
speech  became  thick,  or  when,  if  carried  away  by  pas- 
sion, his  delivery  was  somewhat  indistinct ;  but  ordi- 
narily his  enunciation  was  wonderfully  clear  and  his 
English  far  purer  than  that  spoken  by  the  actors  around 
him.  It  is  somewhat  amusing  to  hear  Americans,  who 
are  proverbially  inelegant  in  their  language,  finding 
fault  with  Fechter's  occasional  slips  of  the  tongue. 
What  would  they  say  to  Garrick,  with  his  shiipreiiie^ 
shuperior,  vurtue,  fersely  (for  fiefcely),  Isrel  iox  Israel, 
villhi  for  villain,  and  appeal  for  appall  ?  Churchill,  in 
his  "  Rosciad,"  declared  that  "■  Garrick  never  did  or 
never  could  speak  ten  successive  lines  of  Shakespeare 
with  grammatical  propriety."  Nevertheless  Garrick 
was  great.  What  would  they  say  to  Kemble's  "  foggy 
throat,"  that  was  wont  to 

"  Fill  all  thy  bones  with  a-chcs," 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


117 


and  whose  vitiated  orthoepy  induced  Leigh  Hunt  to 
publish  a  lexicon,  that  theatre-goers  might  have  a  key 
to  the  text  ?  The  elder  Kean  had  countless  vulgarisms 
of  pronunciation.  Vulgarity  is  inexcusable.  A  foreign 
accent  may  not  be  desirable,  yet  it  is  far  more  grate- 
ful to  a  musical  ear  than  the  common  variety  of  nasal 
twang  in  which  both  our  pulpit  and  stage  indulge  to 
an  intolerable  extent. 

Writer,  as  well  as  sculptor  and  actor,  Fechter  was 
the  author  of  French  plays  to  which  he  never  appended 
his  name,  as  well  as  of  several  English  dramatizations. 
No  mean  poet,  he  rendered  "  Romeo  and  Juliet "  into 
French  verse. 

"  Hence,  to  thy  praises,"  Fechter,  "  I  agree, 
And  pleased  with  nature  must  be  pleased  with  thee  I  " 


FECHTER'S 
"CLAUDE    MELNOTT  E." 


FECHTER'S   "CLAUDE   MELNOTTE." 


Of  the  popularity  of  maudlin  sentimentality  there 
can  be  no  doubt ;  othenvise  the  "  Lady  of  Lyons  " 
would  long  since  have  been  consigned  to  an  early 
grave  with  never  a  -headstone  to  mark  it.  Thriving 
like  a  green  bay-tree,  it  brings  forth  fruit  even  in  chill 
December,  breathing,  apparently,  no  other  atmosphere 
than  that  of  its  own  tropical  passion.  To  deny  its 
cleverness  as  an  acting  play  is  as  absurd  as  to  deny  its 
bathos ;  yet,  clever  though  it  be  in  effects,  no  one  but 
Charles  Fechter  ever  elevated  it  out  of  its  drivel  into 
romance.  In  reality  Claude  Mclnotte  is  a  "  cad."  He 
lies  like  a  dozen  troopers,  he  appropriates  other  people's 
rings  and  snuff-boxes,  he  pretends  to  be  a  gentleman. 
After  undergoing  a  grand  moral  reform  by  taking 
part  in  the  French  spoliation  of  Italy,  he  returns  to 
woo  his  wife,  and  establishes  his  title  to  the  privilege 
by  paying  his  father-in-law's  debts  with  the  silver 
spoons,  "old  masters,"  and  objcts  d'art  stolen  from 
pillaged  palaces.     A  fine  record,  surely. 

Had  Mclnotle  served  in  our  civil  war,  the  press  would 
have  united  in  one  prolonged  howl  over  the  infamy  of 
such  vandalism  ;  but  the  glamour  of  the  footlights  stifles 
the  expostulations  of  conscience,  and  Fechter,  despising 


122      CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

Bulwer's  character  while  appreciating  the  effectiveness 
of  the  play,  lifted  Melnotte  out  of  his  very  self  and 
made  a  hero  of  him.  If  this  is  not  creation,  what  is  it  ? 
Men  and  women,  girls  and  boys,  old  maids  and  bache- 
lors, were  spellbound.  Hating  Pauline  for  not  imme- 
diately surrendering  at  discretion,  they  lived  over  past 
or  dreamed  of  future  joys.  An  effect  hke  this  renders 
actor  far  greater  than  play  and  proves  the  magic  of  real 
art,  without  which  mock  sentiment  is  —  mock  senti- 
ment. 

English  journals  pronounced  Fechter's  Aldnotte 
the  best  that  had  ever  been  seen,  and  the  verdict  was 
doubtless  correct,  notwithstanding  that  IMacready  first 
brought  out  the  "  Lady  of  Lyons  "  at  Covent  Garden 
Theatre  in  1838.  With  all  Macready's  ability  — 
and  that  he  was  great  in  Werner,  Virginius,  Riche- 
lieu, Lear,  and  William  Tell,  no  one  who  values  the 
opinions  of  the  best  critics  of  a  past  generation  can 
doubt  —  he  did  not  shine  as  a  lover.  He  invested  his 
mistress  with  no  reflected  glory.  He  did  his  duty  to 
the  situation  and  text ;  and,  doing  but  this,  deprived 
passion  of  its  sentiment.  Love  drops  "  like  the  gentle 
rain  from  heaven,"  and  has  no  more  to  do  with  duty 
than  the  north  pole  has  to  do  with  the  equator.  "  Mr. 
Macready's  Claude,'^  says  the  London  Times,  "  was  a  less 
youthful  and  a  more  staid,  serious,  and  —  using  the 
phrase  without  suggestion  of  offence  — '  stilted  person.' " 

Undisturbed  by. the  conventionalities  of  the  English 
stage,  desirous  of  putting  as  much  nature  as  possible 
into  the  play,  Fechter  suggested  several  alterations  to 
Bulwer,  who,  acknowledging  their  propriety,  made  them 


CHARLES  ALBERT  EECHTER. 


123 


without  demur.  The  most  important  of  these  were  the  ■*■ 
suppression  of  the  first  scene,  by  which  condensation 
the  play  was  strengthened  ;  the  substitution  of  Bcauscant 
in  person  for  the  letter  formerly  delivered  to  and  read 
by  Mclnotte ;  the  omission  of  the  extra  lines  after  the 
words  ''  Do  you?"  at  the  end  of  the  second  act;  and 
the  conclusion  of  the  play  at  Mclnotte  s  exclamation, 
"  Thy  husband  !  "  by  which  artistic  curtailment  the 
curtain  fell  upon  the  exciting  tableau  of  Pauline 
rushing  to  her  husband's  arms.  After  seeing  this  finale 
Bulwer  himself  man-elled  that  he  had  never  thought 
of  it.  Mclnotte' s  soliloquy  in  the  fourth  act  was  shorn 
of  the  lines  : 

"  She  wakes  to  scorn,  to  hate,  but  not  to  shudder 
Beneath  the  touch  of  my  abhorred  love." 

Costume  and  business  undenvent  a  greater  revolu- 
tion. Instead  of  the  blouse  and  trousers  worn  by 
Macready  and  his  successors,  Fechter  donned  a  rich 
bourgeois  dress  of  the  period,  such  as  a  "  village  prince  " 
would  be  likely  to  wear  at  a  festival.  Instead  of  a 
nondescript  uniform,  Hessians,  and  cocked  hat  in  the 
second  act,  Fechter  wore  powdered  hair,  and  put  on 
the  black  court  suit,  silk  stockings,  and  chapeau  bras  of 
an  Italian  prince,  who  had  nothing  whatever  to  do 
with  the  plain  hair  and  plain  clothes  of  the  revolution. 
Instead  of  concealing  himself  in  the  last  act  behind  the 
feathers  of  a  h\pothetical  hat,  Fechter  was  disguised  by 
his  ONvn  hair  and  a  mustache,  and  stood  with  a  table 
between  Pauline  and  himself,  she  not  daring  to  raise 
her  eyes  to  the  man  who  is  supposed  to  be  Melnotte's 
intimate  friend. 


124 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


Prior  to  this  inteniew,  Fechter  overcame  the  exceed- 
ingly awkward  position  in  which  the  dramatist  places 
Mehiotte,  —  in  introducing  him  to  the  Deschappelles  and 
then  leaving  him  for  five  or  eight  minutes  with  never 
a  soul  to  talk  to,  and  without  a  reason  for  such  un- 
warrantable incivility,  —  by  indicating  that  he  would  in 
no  way  disturb  the  drawing  up  of  the  marriage  con- 
tract, and  by  retiring  to  a  conservatory  where  he  was 
presented  by  Damas  to  various  ladies  and  gentlemen. 
An  unnatural  situation  was  thus  rendered  perfectly 
comme  il  faut,  and  all  by  the  substitution  of  an  evening 
assembly  of  interested  friends  for  an  afternoon  meeting 
of  the  Deschappelles  family. 

Claude  Mehiotte  is  a  Frenchman,  and  Fechter  treated 
him  as  such.  The  moment  he  appeared,  with  prize  rifle 
in  hand,  the  audience  felt  the  passion  of  the  lover  and 
longed  to  see  the  object  of  his  homage.  Poetic  even 
in  details,  Fechter  straightway  laid  his  gun  not  on  table 
or  chair  or  in  a  corner,  after  the  manner  of  ordinary 
Melnottes,  but  on  the  edge  of  his  easel,  beneath  the 
portrait  of  Pauline,  making  of  it  a  votive  offering  to 
the  idol  of  his  heart.  How  much  this  trifle  meant  ! 
From  first  to  last  he  treated  his  mother  with  downright 
affection.  This  in  itself  was  a  revelation,  —  stage  moth- 
ers being  regarded  by  their  heroic  children  as  necessary 
evils,  to  be  tolerated  with  cold  indifference.  Hope, 
indignation,  revenge,  were  vividly  portrayed  in  the  first 
act ;  while  Fechter's  comedy,  in  the  second  act,  was 
good  acting,  for  it  was  acting,  —  as  far  removed  from 
Fechter's  real  comedy  as  artifice  is  removed  from 
reality.      His  Mdnotte  was   acting  a   part  which   he 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER.  135 

despised,  and  there  was  consequently  a  want  of  repose 
about  it  quite  in  spnpathy  with  the  sitUcltion  ;  but  he 
took  snuff  nonchalantly,  and  occasionally  put  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  as  nobility  always  did  during  the  reign 
of  petits  maitres.  Left  alone  with  Pauline,  constraint 
disappeared  before  the  magic  of  love  ;  and  in  his  mouth 
the  picture  of  that  "'palace  lifting  to  eternal  summer" 
became  true  art,  fully  justif}'ing  Pauline's  tribute  to  his 
"  eloquent  tongue."  We  Hstened  to  sound,  not  sense, 
and  saw  the  vision  of  love's  young  dream ;  and  for 
the  first  time  we  saw  Mdnotte  do  justice  to  Bulwer's 
intention.     The  passage, 

"  If  thou  wouldst  have  me  paint 
The  home  to  which,  could  love  fulfil  its  prayers, 
This  hand  would  lead  thee,  —  listen," 

received  proper  treatment.  "  Could  love  fulfil  its 
prayers  "  was  spoken  sadly,  after  a  pause,  and  almost 
as  an  aside ;  nor  did  Mdnotte  fold  Pauline  in  his 
arms  until  he  was  warmed  by  the  recitation  of  his  fancy. 
Very  charming  was  the  business  at  the  end  of  this 
act,  when  Melnotte,  seated  at  the  right,  overcome  with 
agony  at  the  treacherous  part  he  was  playing,  and  resting 
his  arm  upon  the  table  beside  him,  gazed  with  fond 
remorse  into  Pauline's  face  as  she  stole  toward  him 
and  stroked  the  extended  hand.  The  tableau  on  Pau- 
line's exit  was  admirable,  and,  when  the  curtain  fell,  Mel- 
notte stood  out  as  the  picture  of  melancholy  abstraction. 

But  it  was  in  the  third  and  fourth  acts  that  Fechter 
showed  his  power,  in  the  manliness  of  his  passionate 
atonement.  Picturesque  and  noble  in  his  black  velvet 
suit  and  gray  cloak,  he  made  Beauseant  and  Glavis 


126  CHARLES  ALBERT  FEC LITER. 

shrink  from  his  dangerous  presence  as  jackals  shrink 
from  the  Hoil.  His  exclamation,  "  O  Heaven,  forgive 
me  !  "  when  wrapping  Pauline  in  his  cloak  he  led  her  to 
Melnotte's  cottage,  was  the  very  keynote  of  despair. 
He  put  his  neatest  art  into  the  scene  of  Melnotte's 
self-abasement.     There  was  no  raving.    The  confession 

beginning  : 

"  Pauline,  by  pride 
Angels  have  fallen  ere  thy  time," 

was  rendered  with  "a  magic  to  exorcise  hate,"  and 
culminated  with  a  truly  beautiful  and  original  point. 

"And  when  thou  art  happy,  and  hast  half  forgot 
Him  who  so  loved,  so  wronged  thee,  think  at  least 
Heaven  left  some  remnant  of  the  angels  still 
In  that  poor  peasant's  nature  ! 
Ha !  my  mother  ! 

[  Widow  comes  dozvn  stairs  ;]" 
says  the  play-book. 

Now,  what  did  Fechter?  Instead  of  summoning 
his  mother  as  if  she  were  a  lackey,  this  admirable 
artist  completely  transfigured  words  and  situation.  At 
the  beginning  of  the  sentence  quoted,  the  JVidow  ap- 
peared at  the  upper  door,  quietly  descended  the  stairs, 
and  stood  beside  her  son,  when,  heart-broken  he  ex- 
claimed, 

"  Ail  !  my  mother  !  " 

and  threw  himself  into  her  arms  to  find  relief  in  tears. 
This  alteration  should  be  adopted  by  future  Claudes. 
Equally  fine  was  Fechter's  expression  at  the  close  of 
the  act,  as  he  followed  Pauline's  exit  with  his  eyes,  and 
sinking  to  the  ground,  invoked  Heaven's  blessing  upon 
her. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER. 


127 


In  wonderful  contrast  with  the  quiet  beauty  of  the 
third  was  Fechter's  finale  to  the  fourth  act.  The  worn- 
out  text  was  clothed  anew.  It  was  a  real  scene,  a  real 
parting.  The  audience  was  thrilled  by  Melnotte's  noble 
passion  ;  the  blood  tingled  through  their  veins  as  if  they 
were  being  charged  with  electricity.  The  divine  spark, 
of  which  we  hear  so  much  and  see  so  little,  asserted  its 
presence  ;  and  when  the  curtain  fell  upon  an  entirely 
new  tableau,  no  one  could  resist  the  enthusiasm  of  re- 
calling again  and  again  him  who  had  made  a  magnifi- 
cent hero  out  of  an  old  stage  bore.  To  the  last  there 
was  manifest  Claude's  love  for  his  mother,  which  so 
justifies  the  Widow's  adoration  of  her  son.  He  would 
not  hurt  her  by  even  a  word.  After  Mdnotte's  exclama- 
tion, "  the  husband  of  a  being  so  beautiful  .  ,  .  may 
be  low  bom,"  Fechter  took  his  mother's  hand,  adding, 
"there  is  no  guilt  in  the  decrees  of  Providence,"  with 
a  tenderness  that  made  us  ask,  "  Why  can't  we  have 
more  acting  like  it?"  His  last  embrace  was  for  this 
widowed  mother,  and  at  sight  of  so  true  a  son,  so  great 
a  lover,  even  the  manliest  eye  sympathized  with  rough 
Colonel  Dainas  as  he  murmured,  "  I  '11  be  hanged  if 
I  'm  not  going  to  blubber  !  " 

The  INIarseillaise  is  usually  played  at  the  close  of 
this  act.  Fechter  introduced  it  after  Damas's  declara- 
tion that  Melnotte  would  make  an  excellent  soldier. 
Beginning  pianissimo,  the  grand  hymn  rose  to  a  gradual 
crescendo  until  the  climax,  when  it  burst  forth  with  all  its 
force.  After  such  a  vivid  scene,  of  course  the  fifth  act, 
in  which  J/^/zw//^  does  httle  more  than  "stand  at  ease," 
was  comparatively  tame ;  but  the  old  glow  came  over 


128  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

us  in  watching  Fechter's  facial  expression  during  the 
short  inteniew  with  Pauline,  in  the  final  action  of  the 
tearing  of  the  contract,  and  the  happy  embrace  of  man 
and  wife  with  which  Fechter  righdy  terminated  the 
play. 

"  AU  the  world  loves  a  lover,"  says  Emerson,  and  in 
this  poetic  fact  lay  Fechter's  greatest  power.  Fechter's 
love-making  was  so  far  removed  fi-om  what  is  seen  on 
the  stage,  that  the  s}'mpathetic  spectator  forgot  its  fiction. 
And  it  was  because  of  this  ideal  element  in  liis  lovers 
that  Fechter  found  his  greatest  admirers  among  women. 
Possessed  of  more  sentiment  than  men,  and  hungr}*  for 
s}'mpathy,  they  recognized  "  the  triumph  of  woman  "  in 
Fechter's  Ruy  Bias  and  Claude  Melnotte,  and  were 
gratefial  to  the  artist. 


FECHTER 
IN  FOUR  CHARACTERS. 


Frederic  de  Af arson, 

•'On  De.maxde  ux  Gouverxeur." 

Don  CcBsar  de  Bazan, 

"  Don  Cesar  de  Bazan." 

Fabien  and  Louis  dei  Franchi, 

•'CoRSiCAN  Brothers." 

Monte  Crista, 

"  Monte  Cristo." 


"FREDERIC   DE   MARSAN." 


Versatile,  as  the  highest  order  of  dramatic  talent 
must  ever  be  in  order  to  sound  the  chord  of  human 
feehng,  Fechter  was  equally  at  home  in  low  com- 
edy, high  comedy,  melodrama,  and  tragedy.  What- 
ever he  did  last  seemed  that  for  which  he  was  best 
fitted.  His  Frederic  de  Marsan  in  the  little  French 
comedy  of  "  On  Demande  un  Gouverneur  "  was  the 
perfection  of  neat  acting.  Never  once  did  he  raise 
his  voice  above  a  colloquial  tone,  not  once  did  he 
make  any  greater  effort  for  points  than  he  would 
have  made  in  his  own  drawing-room ;  yet,  by  merely 
holding  the  mirror  up  to  nature,  he  riveted  attention  as 
closely  as  in  the  most  effective  dramas.  No  actor  can 
personate  comedy  unless  he  be  a  gentleman.  A  come- 
dian cannot  strut,  cannot  "take  steps  ;  "  he  must  bear 
himself  with  the  ease  peculiar  to  perfect  breeding.  A 
dress  coat  is  a  terrible  ordeal,  and  he  who  wears  it  tri- 
umphantly is  a  rara  avis.  Fechter  mastered  its  black 
angles.  His  assumption  of  feigned  intoxication  in 
"  On  Demande  un  Gouverneur,"  was  consummate. 
Rare  is  the  art  that  can  render  drunkenness  charming. 
This  Fechter  possessed,  and  at  the  close  of  the  scene 
the   impulse   was  to  demand   its  repetition.     It   was 


132 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


humor  devoid  of  grossness.  Fechter  could  not  touch 
anything  without  enveloping  it  in  romance,  and  actually 
discovered  the  poetry  of  inebriety.  He  was  as  grace- 
ful in  the  vagaries  of  his  legs  as  if  he  had  been  exe- 
cuting a  pas  seul.  Fechter  drunk  was  as  versatile  as 
Fechter  sober,  the  real  intoxication  of  Don  Ccesar  de 
Bazan  being  totally  different  in  expression  from  that  as- 
sumed by  the  French  gentleman,  Frederic  de  Marsan. 


"DON   CESAR   DE   BAZAN." 

The  text  of  "  Don  Caesar  "  refers  to  the  vagabond 
nobleman  as  "  this  sottish  mummer,"  and  Lemaitre,  the 
great  personator  of  chevaliers  d'' Industrie,  who  first 
produced  the  drama,  was  wont  to  make  Don  Cczsar 
very  drunk  ;  while  the  elder  Wallack,  the  original  of  the 
English  version,  — "  the  most  effective  personator  of 
the  hero,  if  not  the  most  agreeable,"  says  the  London 
Athenceiwi,  —  descended  to  the  vulgarity  of  hiccough- 
ing. Assuredly  there  is  no  authority  for  this  license. 
Don  CcBsar  has  lost  none  of  his  wits,  he  is  capable  of 
fighting  skilfully  enough  to  kill  a  captain.  Wine  has 
made  him  familiar,  affectionately  demonstrative,  some- 
what doubtful  as  to  his  centre  of  gravity,  and  that  is 
all.  Fechter  went  no  further,  and  was  so  delicately 
unctuous  in  this  bibulous  mood  as  to  cause  regret 
upon  his  returning  to  a  normal  condition.  Nothing 
could  be  neater  in  its  humor  than  Fechter's  panto- 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER. 


133 


mime  when,  in  referring  to  his  creditors  and  remark- 
ing, "  Most  of  them  have  children,  creditors  ivill  have 
children,  heirs  to  their  ledgers,"  he  indicated  by  the 
airiest  motion  stairs  of  children  ascending  from  earth 
to  heaven.  Equally  good  was  the  broader  humor  of 
his  funniest  point  when  wrestling  with  a  word  of  five 
syllables.     "  How  human  nature  has  de-gen-er —  " 

"  Rated,"  added  Don  jFose,  coming  to  the  rescue. 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  Don  Ccesar,  shaking  him  ten- 
derly by  the  hand,  with  inexpressible  drollery,  "  it 's  a 
long  word."  Like  all  his  other  points,  it  was  orig- 
inal. 

Throughout  the  first  two  acts  Fechter  was  champagne 
in  human  form.  The  grace  of  his  audacity  supplied 
the  place  of  virtue,  and  the  "  good  fellow  "  was  so  good 
that  reformation  became  a  foregone  conclusion.  A 
notable  feature  in  Fechter's  acting  was  the  artistic  em- 
plo}'ment  of  the  baldest  stage  accessories.  When  he 
sat  down  the  chair  became  vitalized,  and  immediately 
played  an  effective  and  thoroughly  appropriate  part. 
Thus,  upon  Dofi  pose's  intimating  that  Don  Ccesar 
would  die  on  the  gallows,  the  noble  vagabond  started 
up,  and,  seizing  the  chair  while  exclaiming,  "  But  a 
rope  like  a  thief!  "  raised  it  aloft  as  if  to  hurl  it  at  the 
power  which  could  so  insult  him.  Though  only  a 
wooden  chair,  there  was  dignity  and  passion  in  the 
pose,  and  the  action  entirely  harmonized  with  the 
hidalgo's  hot  blood.  Fechter's  Don  Cxsar  treated 
wine  as  if  it  really  had  wooed  and  won  him.  As  he 
inhaled  its  aroma  the  cup  seemed  to  brim  with  the  true 
descendant  of  the  vine,  and  when  he  next  spoke  his 
voice  was  flavored  with  it  ! 


134 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


During  the  drinking  chorus,  it  was  Fechter's  easy 
pantomime,  not  the  singing,  that  interested,  and  when 
in  the  midst  of  the  revelry  the  clock  struck  half-past 
six,  Fechter  made  a  neat  point  by  putting  his  finger  in 
his  ear,  as  if  to  shut  out  destiny.  Are  these  things 
trivial?  Not  so  trivial  but  they  constitute  the  differ- 
ence between  letter  and  spirit.  In  the  interviews  be- 
tween the  Marchioness  of  Santa  Cruz  and  Don  Ccesar, 
Fechter's  gesticulation  and  facial  expression  added  rich 
sauce  to  the  admirable  situation,  while  the  scene  be- 
tween Don  C(zsar  and  the  King,  in  the  last  act,  was 
rendered  inimitable  by  Fechter's  manner.  "  If  you 
are  Don  Caesar  de  Bazan,  /am  the  King  of  Spain  !  " 
Placing  his  hat  on  his  head  at  an  angle  of  audacious 
coolness,  Fechter  took  the  stage,  and,  fanning  him- 
self with  his  pocket  handkerchief,  swaggered  to  the 
foot-lights  with  an  indescribable  mock-heroic  air  that 
inspired  several  rounds  of  applause.  Authority  de- 
clares that  both  Lemaitre  and  the  elder  Wallack  made 
their  point  here  by  sitting  opposite  the  King,  and 
touching  the  spring  of  a  spiral  feather  in  their  hats, 
which  gradually  rose  and  nodded  familiarly  to  as- 
tounded royalty.  Such  loud  burlesque  is  unwarrant- 
able, and  Fechter  showed  wisdom  in  not  overstep- 
ping the  hne  of  comedy.  The  closing  scenes  of  the 
acting  within  the  acting  were  masterly  strokes,  as 
indicative  of  the  artist  as  Giotto's  drawing  of  the 
circle. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER.  135 


"THE   CORSICAN   BROTHERS." 

Far  less  worthy  of  Fechter  was  the  drama  of  "  The 
Corsican  Brothers  ;  "  not  because  it  is  melodramatic  for, 
saving  the  apparitions,  there  is  nothing  that  does  not 
hold  the  mirror  up  to  Corsican  nature  (and  in  these 
days  of  Spiritualism  who  shall  say  that  apparitions  are 
impossible?)  but  because  there  is  hardly  sufficient  body 
to  the  drama.  Fechter's  Fabien  and  Louis  dci  Franchi 
were  distinct  and  complete  personations  ;  but,  remem- 
bering Hamlet,  they  were  the  condescensions  of  a  king. 
That  the  general  public  preferred  Dumas  to  Shakespeare 
was  pitiable  for  artist  and  critic.  Despite  all  cavilling, 
however,  Fechter's  face  never  spoke  more  telling,  sig- 
nificant language  than  during  tAvo  moments  of  "The 
Corsican  Brothers,"  — the  first  when  he  repelled  the  au- 
dacity of  Cclcstinc,  with  such  a  look  of  withering  con- 
tempt as  would  blanch  the  cheek  of  the  most  degraded 
of  women ;  the  second  when,  stepping  between  Ejnilie 
de  Lesparre  and  Chateati  Reuaud,  upon  being  appealed 
to  by  the  former  for  protection,  he  completely  cowed 
the  braggart  by  a  language  of  the  eye  that  defies  de- 
scription and  completely  does  away  with  the  necessity 
of  speech.  Nothing  could  have  been  more  quiet, 
more  gentlemanly,  and  yet  more  telling.  Applause  fol- 
lowed instantaneously,  even  from  "  the  gods,"  proving 
that  in  the  good  time  coming  the  popular  taste  may 
relish  something  better  than  ranting.  Fechter's  Corsi- 
can dress  for  FabUn  was  a  study,  perfect  in  every  ap- 


136  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

pointraent  —  even  to  the  ear-rings  and  the  tobacco- 
pouch  from  which  he  manufactured  cigarettes  as  he  sat 
on  the  table  and  related  the  peculiarities  of  his  family. 
Those  who  watched  narrowly  remarked  that  as  Louis, 
Fechter  wore  no  cravat,  but  fastened  his  collar  with  a 
gold  stud.  Strange,  for  a  Parisian  who  was  so  perfectly 
dressed  in  other  respects.  Then  it  was  remembered 
that  in  Corsica,  and  even  in  Southern  France,  cravats 
are  ignored  1 

A  picture  of  the  times  stood  on  the  stage  ;  and,  in 
the  hand-to-hand  conflict  that  closes  the  drama,  the 
audience  beheld  a  hot-blooded  Corsican  tiger  thirst- 
ing for  revenge,  fighting  mth  all  the  skill  and  litheness 
of  a  creature  brought  up  among  mountains  and  vcn- 
dette.  For  the  first  time  too,  in  America,  '•  The  Corsi- 
can Brothers  "  was  played  as  originally  v\"ritten.  Prior 
to  Fechter's  advent  the  second  act  had  been  made  the 
first,  owing  to  a  mistake  of  the  English  pubHsher,  who 
accidentally  reversed  the  order  of  the  acts,  in  which 
order  Charles  Kean  introduced  the  drama  to  the  Lon- 
don public. 


"MONTE   CRISTO." 

When  Fechter  first  appeared  in  his  dramatization  of 
Dumas's  famous  novel,  many  variations  were  heard  on 
the  weU-worn  theme  of  the  sensational  drama.  Is  not 
a  vast  deal  of  nonsense  written  and  talked  thereon  ?  It 
would  be  supposed,  from  the  manner  in  which  Shake- 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


137 


speare  is  lauded  and  melodrama  derided,  that  the  Swan 
of  Avon  swam  in  the  most  placid  of  mill-streams, 
whereas  there  never  lived  a  dramatist  who  showed  so 
great  a  mastery  of  effects.  There  is  not  a  play  of 
his,  holding  the  stage,  that  is  not  in  the  truest  sense 
sensational ;  and  Shakespeare  is  acted,  not  because  of 
his  poetr)-,  but  because  of  his  knowledge  of  situations 
and  how  to  command  the  interest  of  an  audience. 
"  Hamlet "  is  full  of  sensation.  Murder  most  foul  and 
unnatural  precedes  it,  a  ghost  stalks  abroad  in  the  first 
act,  there  is  murder  again  in  the  third  act,  a  mad  scene 
and  drowning  in  the  fourth,  unlimited  poisoning  and 
stabbing  in  the  fifth  act.  What  more  sensational  than 
Othello's  smothering  of  Dcsdemona  ?  What  more 
thoroughly  melodramatic  than  the  tragedy  of  "Mac- 
beth?" What  more  opposed  to  nature  than  "Mid- 
summer Night's  Dream  "  and  the  "Tempest?"  And 
are  "Richard  III."  and  "King  Lear"  pastoral  po- 
ems? When  Shakespeare  forgets  his  effects  he  be- 
comes a  poet  merely,  and  his  plays,  like  those  of  Ben 
Jonson  and  others,  are  read,  not  acted.  The  theatre 
demands  situations  first,  language  second.  The  dif- 
ference bet^veen  Shakespeare  and  the  highest  order  of 
sensational  dramatist  is  that  one  has  great  genius  and 
the  other  great  cleverness.  One  is  a  poet  as  well  as  a 
play\\Tight,  and  the  other  is  merely  a  playwright.  One 
ennobles  his  plot  by  the  beauty  of  his  verse  ;  the  other 
belittles  it  by  the  vulgarity  of  his  dialogue.  One  en- 
dows his  meanest  characters  with  intellect  far  beyond 
what  each  type  possesses  in  real  life ;  the  other  gives 
even  his  heroes  nothing  but  "  situations."     The  greater 


138 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


includes  the  less,  but  the  less  does  not  include  the 
greater.  If,  then,  Shakespeare  be  good  authority, 
melodrama  is  thoroughly  legitimate.  The  sensational 
actor  is  he  who  produces  a  sensation.  An  audience 
cannot  be  excited  without  being  tlirilled.  It  cannot 
be  thrilled  without  being  made  to  feel.  An  actor  can- 
not make  others  feel  without  feehng  himself.  He 
cannot  feel  without  possessing  what  is  called  genius. 
It  is  quite  possible  to  be  a  good  melodramatic  actor 
and  not  be  able  to  properly  interpret  Shakespeare  ;  but 
the  actor  who  takes  a  modern  melodrama  and,  lifting 
it  out  of  its  absurdity,  raises  it  to  an  ideal  height,  stands 
as  an  actor  very  near  where  Shakespeare  stands  as  a 
dramatist.  If  an  actor  makes  the  impossible  appear 
real,  he  has  the  imagination  of  a  poet  and  gives  evi- 
dence of  greater  abiUty  than  if  he  were  personating  an 
ever}'-day  hero. 

For  this  reason  he  is  mistaken  who  fancies  that  any- 
thing less  than  greatness  produced  Fechter's  effect  in 
"  Monte  Cristo."  It  would  be  as  absurd  to  deny  Ris- 
tori's  genius  in  Sister  Ta-esa,  in  Elizabeth,  and  Marie 
Antoinette.  "  Mrs.  Siddons  was  quite  as  great  in  Mrs. 
Beverley  and  Isabella  as  in  Lady  Macbeth  and  Queen 
Katharine ;  yet  no  one,  we  apprehend,  will  say  that  the 
poetry  is  equal,"  says  captious  Hazlitt,  —  whose  criticism 
applies  to  Fechter  in  the  melodramas  of  '*'  The  Duke's 
Motto,"  ''  Corsican  Brothers,"  and  his  own  version  of 
'•'  Monte  Cristo."  It  requires  most  natural  acting  to 
create  reahty  under  the  ribs  of  improbability.  A\'hen 
brought  out  in  London,  Fechter's  "Monte  Cristo  "  ran 
for  one  hundred  nights.     It  was  deser\-edly  successful. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


139 


as  it  is  the  work  of  a  cle\er  play\\Tight.  Ignoring  the 
popular  taste  for  pageantry,  Fechter  put  aside  the  won- 
drous cave  of  Monte  Crista  which  plays  so  prominent 
a  part  in  the  pubUshed  drama,  gave  but  passing  men- 
tion to  the  gorgeous  Princess  Haidee,  introduced  com- 
paratively few  characters,  told  but  one  of  the  many 
stories  that  make  up  the  romance,  told  this  story  deci- 
sively, and  did  not  hesitate  to  take  liberties  with  the 
original  plot  for  the  sake  of  dramatic  effect.  Thus, 
for  example,  instead  of  being  Villeforfs  father,  Noirtier 
became  his  half-brother ;  by  which  change  the  dram- 
atist could,  without  visitings  of  conscience,  render  Vil- 
lefort  doubly  treacherous  toward  Xoirtier.  Mercedes  did 
not  many  Fernand  until  eighteen  years  after  the  disap- 
pearance of  Edmond  Dantes.  Albert  de  Morccrf  en- 
counteied  Dantes  disguised  as  an  abbe,  at  a  roadside 
inn,  instead  of  meeting  him  in  Rome  as  the  Count  of 
Monte  Crista.  The  youth's  life  was  saved  by  Dantes 
in  Africa,  not  in  Rome,  and  all  of  Dantes' s  enemies 
came  to  most  dramatic  grief  before  the  final  moment 
that  witnessed  the  triumph  of  long-suffering  virtue  in  the 
union  of  Mercedes,  Dantes,  and  their  son.  These  were 
a  few  of  the  many  transformations  in  an  old  friend's 
features.  The  entire  first  act  was  a  condensation  of 
Dumas's  first  t\vo  chapters.  The  drama  was  no  worse 
in  dialogue  than  the  "  Corsican  Brothers."  Occasional 
slips  of  phraseclog)'  attested  its  French  origin,  —  slips 
so  palpable  as  to  render  their  retention  more  than 
strange.  The  plot  was  good,  but,  oddly  enough, 
Fechter  actually  failed  to  make  his  own  hero  as  all- 
pervading  as  his  audiences  desired. 


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RECOLLECTIONS    OF    CHARLES 
FECHTER. 


BY 

EDMUND   YATES, 


HERMAN   VEZIN, 

AND 

WILKIE    COLLINS. 


EXPLANATORY  NOTE. 


Ever  since  I  have  had  ears  to  hear  I  have  been  told 
that,  wonderful  as  women  may  be  in  instinct,  they  are 
totally  without  reason.  Being  creatures  of  emotion, 
loving  or  hating  from  impulse,  they  lack  the  judicial 
element,  and  consequently  are  incapable  of  genuine 
criticism.  I  am  a  woman,  and  what  I  have  ^mtten  of 
Fechter  the  Artist  is  doomed  to  be  attributed,  by  some 
at  least,  to  the  fenid  fancy  of  a  female  partisan  ;  though 
I  am  no  partisan,  though  Fechter  and  I  were  strangers 
in  his  closing  years.  It  is  a  coincidence  that  the 
words,  "  Remember  me,"  written  for  me  by  Fechter, 
on  a  beautiful  crayon  head  of  himself  as  Hamlet,  should 
have  faded  out  of  sight  about  the  time  that  the  giver 
proved  unkind. 

He  is  base  indeed  who  allows  his  estimate  of  an 
artist  to  be  warped  by  personal  feelings.  Fechter  was 
no  less  great  in  his  art  when  he  turned  his  back  on 
his  friends ;  and  my  enthusiasm  is  as  warm  to-day  as 
when  he  first  revealed  himself.  No  one  has  taken  his 
place.  In  vain  have  I  sought  to  find  his  peer  at  the 
Com^die  Fran^aise  and  elsewhere  in  Paris.  No  Fech- 
ter has  arisen,  and  the  Romantic  Drama  languishes. 
"  I  'd  almost  be  willing  to  be  twenty  years  older  for 
the  sake  of  having  seen  him  in  his  prime,  when  he 


146 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


played  Armand  Duval  with  Madame  Doche,"  ex- 
claims a  woman  and  a  critic.  What  greater  sacrifice 
than  this  could  a  woman  make  to  art  ?  To  add  twenty 
years  to  her  age  !  "  The  last  time  I  saw  Fechter," 
continues  this  critic,  "was  in  Philadelphia,  one  year 
before  he  died.  I  was  standing  in  front  of  the  Conti- 
nental Hotel  as  he  went  down  Ninth  Street,  wearing 
a  long  frock  coat  buttoned  to  the  chin,  and  a  low- 
cro^^'ned  broad-brimmed  beaver  hat.  I  don't  know 
which  he  the  more  resembled,  priest  or  planter,  but 
there  was  a  distinction  about  him  that  was  impressive, 
and  it  did  not  seem  right  to  let  him  pass  by  without 
some  sort  of  demonstration." 

Because  I  am  a  woman,  —  because  I  know  how  many 
enemies  Fechter  the  Man  made  in  this  country,  and 
how  i^^ff  are  mlling  in  consequence  to  do  him  justice, 
—  I  have  appealed  to  critics  in  England  to  place  them- 
selves on  record  for  art's  sake.  No  better  judges  of 
acting  live  than  the  three  men  who  generously  respond. 
As  good  wine  needs  no  bush,  the  names  of  Wilkie  Col- 
lins and  Edmund  Yates  need  no  introduction.  It  is 
our  misfortune  though  not  our  fault  that,  American 
though  he  be,  Herman  Vezin  should  have  won  his 
laurels  upon  the  English  stage,  and  only  be  knowTi  to 
his  travelled  countr}'men.  Standing  in  the  front  rank 
of  his  profession,  Herman  Vezin  is  a  rare  example  of 
culture  and  probity.  Of  such  stuff  should  all  actors 
be  made. 

KATE   FIELD. 


EDMUND   VATES   ON    CHARLES   FECHTER. 


The  first  time  I  e\er  saw  Fechter  on  the  stage  was 
in  the  spring  of  1852,  when  I  was  a  young  man  of 
twenty,  highly  impressionable,  and  devoted  to  the 
drama.  He  played  Armand  in  the  "  Dame  aux  Cami- 
llas," with  Madame  Doche  as  heroine.  I  thought  it 
then  a  most  striking  performance,  and  it  still  remains 
so  in  my  memory.  Annand  is  what  actors  call  merely 
a  "  feeder  "  to  Marguerite,  —  save  in  one  act,  when  he 
turns  upon  her ;  and  there  Fechter,  in  his  alternating 
rage,  love,  and  despair,  was  almost  sublime.  I  made 
his  personal  acquaintance  when  he  first  came  to  Eng- 
land, about  the  year  1859  or  i860,  and  as  I  was  then 
living  in  his  immediate  neighborhood,  in  St.  John's 
Wood,  we  were  thrown  much  together,  and  became 
ver)'  intimate. 

Another  neighbor  and  prominent  member  of  our 
circle  was  the  Rev.  J.  N.  Bellew,  at  that  time  incum- 
bent of  St.  Mark's,  Hamilton  Terrace,  an  enthusiastic 
Shakespearian,  to  whom  unquestionably  Fechter  was 
greatly  indebted  for  much  of  the  best  of  his  conception 
of  Hiunkt.  At  the  time  I  speak  of,  and  for  several 
years  afterwards,  Fechter  was  the  most  abstemious  of 


148 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


men ;  he  ate  sparingly,  and  never  drank  anything  but  a 
little  claret  and  water.  He  was  most  domestic  in  his 
habits,  and  devoted  to  his  two  children,  —  especially  to 
his  son,  little  Paul.  His  health  was  not  good  ;  he  had 
some  extraordinary  complaint  which  no  one  could  ever 
get  at,  but  which  had  the  effect  of  causing  a  sudden 
swelling —  as  he  described  it,  "  a  gonflement "  —  of  the 
stomach,  which  caused  him  much  pain  and  frequently 
incapacitated  him  from  acting. 

At  such  times  he  would  go  to  bed  and  lie  there 
moaning  dismally,  with  his  head  tied  up  in  a  handker- 
chief, with  a  cataplasm  on  his  stomach,  tisane  to  drink, 
and  all  those  weak  and  washy  solaces  and  medicaments 
with  which  a  sick  Frenchman  loves  to  surround  himself 

He  was  the  best  love-maker  I  ever  saw  on  the  stage  ; 
he  threw  his  whole  heart  and  soul  into  it,  and  made 
love  not  merely  in  words  but  with  the  inflections  of 
his  voice,  with  his  attitudes,  with  his  eyes.  Ruy  Bias 
was  unquestionably  his  best  part.  It  had  no  blot. 
His  love  for  the  Queen  was  most  charmingly  expressed  ; 
and  in  the  last  act  of  rage  and  vengeance  on  the  trai- 
tor he  was  positively  sublime.  Mounet-Sully,  who  is 
the  present  Rjiy  Bias  of  the  Comedie  Fran9aise,  and 
who  appeared  in  England  with  Sara  Bernhardt,  is  not 
to  be  compared  to  Fechter.  I  am  afraid  Lewes  is  right 
about  his  Othello.  It  was  a  desperately  poor  perform- 
ance, full  of  French  tricks  and  nonsense  ;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  his  lago  was  admirable.  "  Hamlet "  was 
the  play  with  which  he  made  most  money.  He  had 
extraordinary  dramatic  power  off  the  stage.  Many 
and  many  a  time  he  has  kept  me  up  till  two  or  three  in 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


149 


the  morning,  telling  the  plot  of  some  piece  which  he 
intended  to  produce,  and  walking  about  the  room,  act- 
ing each  scene  and  each  character.  He  had  a  most 
unhappy  knack  of  quarrelling  with  people,  —  often 
those  with  whom  he  had  been  most  intimate. 

I  recollect  Dickens  saying  to  me  of  him  once  that 
he  had  never  met  anybody  with  greater  appreciative 
power  of  reading  character.  "  He  seemed,"  Dickens 
said,  '■'  to  combine  a  man's  insight  with  a  woman's 
instinct." 

EDMUND   YATES. 


HERMAN   VEZIN   ON   CHARLES   FECHTER. 


Fechter  made  an  immediate  and  decided  hit. 
There  was  a  vivacity,  a  charm,  a  grace  and  fervor  in  his 
acting  which  —  impregnated  as  it  was  with  his  French 
manner  —  struck  us  all  as  so  fresh  and  original  that  he 
became  the  talk  of  London.  Harris,  the  manager,  had 
taken  care  to  have  him  surrounded  with  the  best  pro- 
curable talent,  and  the  new  scenery  and  dresses  for 
"  Ruy  Bias  "  —  Falconer's  translation  —  were  most 
complete  in  design  and  rich  in  material.  Nothing 
was  left  undone  that  could  aid  his  success.  Fechter 
himself  had  passed  some  time  in  London  prior  to  his 
appearance,  making  many  friends  and  exciting  curios- 
ity amongst  those  whose  opinion  would  be  of  value  to 
him. 

I  was  introduced  to  Fechter  soon  after  his  appear- 
ance. His  manner  of  clinging  to  one's  hand  and  look- 
ing with  his  beautiful  eyes  into  one's  own,  as  if  this 
moment  was  the  one  he  had  lived  for,  was  very  fetch- 
ing ;  and  charming  he  undoubtedly  was  until  you  quar- 
relled with  him,  and  then  — 

"  Ruy  Bias "  was  succeeded  by  "  Don  Csesar  de 
Bazan,"  "  The  Golden  Dagger,"  etc.,  none  of  which 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


lU 


plays  did  more  than  confimi  Fechter's  fame.  At  last 
he  played  Hamlet,  and  took  the  town  by  storm.  His 
appearance,  his  easy  grace,  his  freedom  from  the  vice 
of  mouthing,  his  unstilted  style,  delighted  all  but  the 
most  bigoted  adherents  of  the  stagey  school  of  acting. 
I  sat  in  the  stalls  at  one  of  the  rehearsals,  and  was 
much  struck  by  liis  manner  of  always  thinking  the 
thought  of  Hamkt  before  he  spoke  the  words.  I  said 
to  him,  "  Vou  are  going  to  make  a  great  hit  in  this 
part."  Years  afterwards  he  recalled  my  words,  and 
added,  *•  Vou  were  the  only  one  who  encouraged 
me."  It  was  amusing  to  obser\-e  the  absurd  forms  the 
enthusiasm  he  excited  sometimes  took.  I  watched 
two  women  one  night,  panting  and  gasping  with  ec- 
stasy; and,  as  Fechter  left  the  stage,  one  of  them 
exclaimed,  "  Why,  he  even  speaks  English  better  than 
an  English  actor ! "  A  critic  of  some  prominence 
remarked  very  sagely,  "  ^\^ly  should  Mr.  Fechter  be 
reproached  for  acting  Hamlet  with  a  foreign  accent  ? 
for,  after  all,  Hamlet  was  not  an  Englishman." 
"  Hamlet  "  had  a  run,  unprecedented  at  that  time,  of 
seventy-five  nights.  Soon  after  this,  Fechter  took  the 
Lyceum  Theatre. 

Whether  he  was  backed  by  a  wealthy  admirer  or 
not,  I  don't  know ;  but  he  went  to  work  as  if  he  had 
been  possessed  of  a  Fortunatus  purse.  He  engaged 
Phelps,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  Mathews,  and  Walter 
Montgomer}-,  —  none  of  whom  ever  appeared  at  his 
theatre.  His  first  production,  "  The  Duke's  Motto," 
which  he  had  expected  to  nm  a  few  weeks  only,  ran  a 
whole  season,  to  immense  business.     He  then  recon- 


1-2      CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

structed  his  stage  and  machinery,  importing  a  posse  of 
French  carpenters  to  show  the  Englishmen  how  to 
work  the  machinery.  One  of  them,  after  putting  a 
piece  of  scenery  into  its  proper  place,  turned  to  his 
English  brother  and  said,  "  Comme  ga  !  "  The  next 
night  the  English  carpenter  did  the  work,  the  French- 
man looking  on  to  supen-ise.  The  English  brother 
above  alluded  to,  on  repeating  the  work  of  the  French- 
man, looked  up  at  the  piece  of  scenery  he  had  just 
handled,  and  muttered  :    "  Comme  5a  !     You  can't  get 

on  with   this scenery  unless   you   speak  French 

to  it !  " 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  exquisite  beauty  and  skill 
of  Fechter's  stage  management.  I  played  with  him  in 
"The  Master  of  Ravenswood,"  "  Hamlet,"  and  "The 
Corsican  Brothers,"  and  I  found  him  perfectly  unself- 
ish and  an  artist  "  aux  bouts  des  ongles."  He  never 
thought  of  depending  entirely  upon  himself.  He  en- 
gaged the  best  actors  he  could  get,  and  spared  no 
expense  in  scenery  and  appointments.  He  never  sac- 
rificed another  actor  to  himself  on  tlie  stage.  Every 
one  had  his  chance,  and  he  must  have  been  a  dullard 
who  did  not  profit  by  his  invaluable  hints. 

Fechter  was  essentially  a  great  expert.  His  art  pre- 
sented no  difficulties  he  could  not  surmount.  It  must 
be  confessed,  however,  that  when  an  author's  creation 
was  beyond  his  grasp,  he  dragged  the  author  down  to 
his  own  level,  as  was  the  case  in  Othello,  the  greatest 
of  parts ;  but  even  in  this  failure  he  did  things  which 
were  exquisite  in  their  grace  and  finish. 

As  Dickens  said,  Fechter  had  a  genius  for  quarrel- 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FBCHTER.  153 

ling,  and  no  doubt  his  ungovernable  temper  was  the 
primary  cause  of  his  downfall.  Any  opposition  seemed 
to  make  him  mad,  and  in  these  fits  he  would  ruthlessly 
insult  his  best  friends  so  grossly  as  to  make  all  reconcil- 
iation impossible,  even  if  he  had  sought  it  j  but  this  he 
never  did.  It  was  a  wonder  that  he  never  quarrelled 
with  Dickens. 

His  character  was  not  without  reproach  ;  but  he  has 
left  his  mark  on  the  stage,  and  all  actors  who  had  the 
intelligence  to  appreciate  him,  owe  him  an  artistic  debt. 
His  lago  was  much  liked  and  was  highly  artistic,  but 
none  of  his  Shakespearian  attempts  equalled  his  Ham- 
let. Hermann  Hendrich  was,  in  my  opinion,  the  very 
finest  Hamlet  I  have  ever  seen.  Still,  Fechter  will 
rank  high  in  the  roll  of  great  actors  who  have  excelled 
in  that  character. 

HERMAN   VEZIN. 


WILKIE   COLLINS'S   RECOLLECTIONS   OF 
CHARLES   FECHTER. 


I  FIRST  saw  Fechter  in  Paris  nearly  thirty  years  since, 
on  tlie  stage  of  the  old  Vaudeville  Theatre.  He  had 
then  lately  achieved  one  of  the  great  triumphs  of  his 
art,  by  playing  the  part  of  Annand  Duval  in  the  first, 
and  (speaking  in  a  dramatic  sense)  the  best  of  the 
plays  of  Alexander  Dumas  the  younger,  —  "  La  Dame 
aux  Camelias." 

When  he  came  to  London,  in  i860,  to  act,  for  the 
first  time  in  the  English  language,  in  a  translation  of 
"  Ruy  Bias,"  we  were  made  personally  known  to  one 
another. 

By  common  impulse  we  dispensed  with  the  tentative 
formalities  of  acquaintance,  and  became  friends  from 
that  day  to  the  day  of  Fechter's  death. 

I  have  been  asked  to  write  my  recollections  of  this 
admirable  actor  and  delightful  companion.  It  is  use- 
less to  conceal  that  this  is  a  melancholy  task.  I  must 
look  back  at  some  of  those  happiest  days  of  my  life, 
which  are  days  that  I  can  never  see  again  ;  and  I  must 
write  composedly  and  impartially  —  if  I  can  —  of  a 
friend  who  held  a  place  in  my  regard  which  has  never 
since  been  filled. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


155 


Such  remembrances  as  I  can  offer  to  readers  with 
propriety  divide  themselves,  to  my  mind,  into  two  parts. 
Permit  me  to  call  them  Fechter  in  Pubuc  and 
Fechter  in  Private. 

FECHTER  IN  PUBLIC. 

It  has  been  said,  most  truly,  that  the  art  of  the  actor 
dies  with  him. 

No  description  of  acting,  by  a  person  who  has  seen 
the  player,  can  convey  any  distinct  idea  to  the  mind  of 
a  person  who  has  not  seen  the  player.  For  example,  it 
has  not  been  our  good  fortune  to  go  to  the  theatre  in 
the  time  of  the  great  Garrick.  What  do  we  know  of 
his  acting,  from  the  many  careful  and  conscientious  de- 
scriptions of  it  which  have  appeared  in  print?  We 
know  absolutely  nothing  but  the  result.  In  tragedy  and 
comedy  alike,  Garrick  delighted  everybody  who  was 
fortunate  enough  to  see  him. 

To  take  another  example,  —  Macready,  in  his  youth, 
had  the  honor  of  acting  with  Mrs.  Siddons.  He  played 
Nonal  to  her  Lady  Randolph  in  the  tragedy  of 
"  Douglas." 

I  once  asked  him  if  he  could  tell  me  anything  which 
would  give  me  some  idea  of  her  acting.  He  answered  : 
"  I  can  only  tell  you  this ;  in  the  scene  in  which  she 
recognizes  Non-al  as  her  lost  son  she  ga\e  me  a  hug 
that  hurt  me,  and  I  felt  her  tears  dropping  on  my  face." 
Let  it  not  be  forgotten  that  she  must,  at  this  late  date 
in  her  career,  have  played  Lady  Randolph  during  the 
theatrical  engagements  of  many  years,  —  and  we  derive 


10  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

from  such  testimony  as  this  the  vague  idea  of  a  grand 
passionate  actress,  so  absolutely  identified  with  her  part 
that  no  frequency  of  repetition  could  weaken  or  degrade 
her  performance.  But  do  we  advance  a  step  farther? 
Do  we  hear  the  tones  which  gave  a  charm,  not  its  own, 
to  the  prosy  poetry  of  the  play  ? 

Do  we  see  the  beautiful  face  expressing  the  pathetic 
exultation  of  maternal  love  ?  Can  we,  in  the  remotest 
degree,  feel  what  the  audience  must  have  felt  when  her 
tears  dropped  on  Macready's  face  ?  We  know  no  more 
about  it  than  that  much  injured  man,  the  ex-king  of 
the  Zulus. 

For  these  good  reasons  I  shall  not  waste  words  in 
any  attempt  to  revive  the  dead  and  buried  influences 
of  Fechter's  acting  by  describing  it  in  detail.  Those 
unfortunate  people  who  have  not  seen  him  must  remain 
in  their  darkness.     Nothing  can  now  enlighten  them. 

Speaking  of  his  acting  in  general  terms  only,  I  may 
say  that  it  was  noble  and  romantic, — with  this  inestima- 
ble merit  added,  that  it  was  always  firmly  founded  on 
truth  to  nature.  His  style  was,  to  use  the  painter's 
phrase,  broad. 

In  his  least  successful  efforts  he  always  avoided  that 
excessive  accumulation  of  detail  which  still  deteriorates 
so  much  good  acting  in  these  later  days.  In  the  all- 
important  accomphshment  of  "  making  love  "  on  the 
stage  he  was  rivalled  by  but  one  man,  in  my  dramatic 
experience,  —  and  that  man  was  always  helped  by 
music,  —  the  irresistible  Mario. 

Fechter's  knowledge  of  his  art,  and  his  eye  for  dra- 
matic effect,  made  him  invaluable  at  rehearsal. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER. 


157 


He  was  an  excellent  adviser  when  a  new  play  was  in 
course  of  production,  —  to  the  writer  as  well  as  to  the 
performers.  There  are  living  actors  and  actresses  who 
can  still  bear  witness,  on  the  stage,  to  an  advance  in 
their  art  due  to  his  teaching  and  example,  which  has 
worthily  raised  them  in  the  estimation  of  the  public. 
The  Miss  Kate  Terry  (of  those  days),  Miss  Carlotta 
Leclercq  (still  on  the  stage),  were,  as  actresses,  almost 
created  anew  by  their  dramatic  association  with  Fechter. 
No  foreigner  ever  grappled  more  resolutely  and  suc- 
cessfully than  he  did  with  the  ditticulties  of  the  English 
language.  He  told  me  that  to  speak  with  ease  and  pro- 
priety the  one  line  in  Hamlefs  soliloquy,  "What's 
Hecuba  to  him,  or  he  to  Hecuba?"  was  a  labor  of 
weeks.  Allowing  all  due  force  to  the  influence  of  such 
determined  application  as  this,  the  secret  of  his  instan- 
taneous success,  when  he  first  stepped  on  our  stage  in 
the  character  of  an  English  actor,  lay  really  and  truly 
in  his  consummate  knowledge  of  his  art. 

Long  before  we,  in  front  of  the  curtain,  had  discov- 
ered what  he  could  do  in  Ruy  Bias  as  an  actor,  we 
had  only  to  observe  his  movements,  his  manner,  his 
by-play,  to  be  free  from  the  slightest  apprehension  of 
his  breaking  down  under  the  hard  stress  of  speaking  to 
us  in  our  language. 

As  to  the  relative  value  of  Fechter's  perfonnances  in 
England,  I  believe  I  only  express  the  general  opinion 
when  I  place  Ruy  Bias  and  Hamlet  in  the  front  rank. 

With  regard  to  Victor  Hugo's  powerful  play,  I  do  not 
hesitate  to  say  (speaking  from  an  experience  which,  be 
it  remembered,  does  not  include  Edmund  Kean)  that 


138  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

Fechter's  Ruy  Bias  was  the  nearest  approach  to  per- 
fection, as  a  performance  in  romantic  drama,  that  we 
have  seen  in  England  in  later  years,  —  reserving  the 
one  exception  of  the  one  supremely  great  actor,  Fre- 
deric Lemaitre.  Speaking  next  of  Hamlet,  I  Avill  only 
venture  to  give  my  evidence  as  a  witness.  From 
Macready  downward  I  have,  I  think,  seen  every  Ham- 
let of  any  note  and  mark  during  the  last  five  and  thirty 
years.  The  true  Hamlet  I  first  saw  when  Fechter 
stepped  on  the  stage.  These  words,  if  they  merely 
expressed  my  own  opinion,  it  is  needless  to  say  would 
never  have  been  written.  But  they  express  the  opinion 
of  every  unprejudiced  person,  under  fifty  years  of  age, 
with  whom  I  have  met.  For  that  reason,  let  the  words 
stand. 

In  the  long  list  of  his  performances  of  the  second 
order  —  or,  to  speak  more  exactly,  in  characters  of 
secondary  importance  from  the  theatrical  point  of  view 
—  I  may  specify  Monte  Crista,  Edgar  in  an  adaptation 
of  the  immortal  "  Bride  of  Lammermoor,"  Claude 
Melnotte  in  the  "  Lady  of  Lyons,"  the  double  char- 
acters in  "The  Duke's  Motto"  (names  forgotten), 
Obenreizer  in  "  No  Thoroughfare,"  and  Maurice  de 
Layrac  in  "  Black  and  White." 

Approaching  once  more  the  throne  of  Shakespeare, 
I  should  add  that  I  have  heard  almost  universal  praise 
of  Fechter's  lago,  —  which  I  did  not  see,  —  and  that  I 
have  nothing  to  say  of  his  Othello  except  to  express 
my  regret  that  I  did  see  it.  The  sooner  that  unfor- 
tunate performance  is  buried  in  oblivion,  the  better. 

All  that  I  can  usefully  write  of  my  friend  in  his  pub- 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER 


159 


lie  capacity  has  now  come  to  an  end.  Having  already 
described  him  as  a  master  of  his  art,  I  have  implied 
that  he  set  the  mark  of  invention  and  fancy  of  a  high 
order  on  his  management  of  the  stage.  Costume  and 
scenery,  color  and  grouping,  theatrical  effect  as  assisted 
by  paints,  powders,  and  wigs,  —  all  felt  his  influence 
for  good.  These  attendant  merits  deserve  to  be  spe- 
cially mentioned.  They  rank  among  the  minor  means 
which  helped  him  to  his  brilliant  success  in  England. 
The  drawbacks  to  that  success  behind  the  scenes  —  the 
mortification  that  he  suffered  from  the  jealousy  and  in- 
gratitude of  some  of  his  professional  brethren  —  I  pur- 
posely pass  over.  No  foul  tongues  can  reach  him  now. 
The  consecration  of  Death  holds  him  sacred  from 
insult. 

FECHTER  IN  PRIVATE. 

One  of  the  worst  vices  of  the  age  we  live  in  is  the 
shameless  disregard  of  truth  prevalent  among  friends, 
writing  or  speaking  in  public,  of  celebrated  persons 
whom  they  have  survived.  Unblushing  exaggeration 
of  the  merits,  position,  and  influence  of  the  dead  man 
seems  to  be  considered  as  sufficient  warrant  for  a  de- 
liberate concealment  of  his  failings  and  faults,  —  which 
is  nothing  less  than  lying  of  the  passive  sort,  artfully 
adapted  to  its  purpose  as  a  pedestal  on  which  the 
writer  or  speaker  can  present  himself  to  the  public  in  a 
favorable  light.  Persons  in  general  wishing,  in  the  case 
of  a  famous  man  deceased,  to  find  out  what  sort  of 
man  he  really  was,  are  in  these  days  invited  to  look  at  a 
fancy  portrait  (greasy  with  the  varnish  of  fulsome  praise) 


l6o  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

in  place  of  a  true  likeness  ;  and,  worse  still,  are  pestered 
by  the  appearance  of  the  begging-box,  sent  round  by 
public  advertisement,  in  the  interests  of  a  posthumous 
glory  shining  with  a  false  light. 

Trifling  as  they  may  be,  these  recollections  of  Fechter 
shall  deceive  no  one.  They  shall  present  the  side  of 
his  character  which  desen-es  blame  as  faithfully  as  tliey 
present  the  side  of  his  character  which  deserves  praise. 

TelUng  the  truth  for  truth's  sake,  I  may  sen^e  one 
useful  purpose  at  least.  I  may  perhaps  relieve  inno- 
cent people  from  reports  which  have  cruelly  and  ig- 
norantly  associated  them  with  the  disasters  of  the 
closing  years  of  my  friend's  life. 

The  serious  defects  of  Fechter's  character  were  two 
in  number.  The  first  of  these  his  friends  viewed  with 
regret.  From  the  second,  they  could  only  turn  away  in 
despair. 

I  have  met  with  many  children  who  had  a  clearer 
idea  then  he  possessed  of  pecuniary  responsibilities. 
When  he  wanted  money  he  borrowed  it  of  the  first 
friend  whom  he  met,  with  the  firmest  imaginary  belief 
in  his  capacity  to  make  repayment  at  the  shortest  pos- 
sible date.  Under  the  same  delusion  he  allowed  greedy 
adventurers,  in  want  of  supplies,  to  involve  him  in  debt 
with  tradespeople  by  making  their  purchases  in  his 
name.  His  sympathy  with  worthier  friends  in  a  state 
of  pecuniary  embarrassment  was  boundless.  When  he 
had  no  money  to  spare,  and  he  was  asked  for  a  loan  of 
"  a  few  hundred  pounds,"  he  had  no  hesitation  in  bor- 
rowing the  money  from  the  fi^iend  who  had  it,  and 
handing  the  sum  over  to  the  friend  who  had  it  not. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER.  i^i 

When  I  remonstrated  with  him,  he  was  always  ready 
with  his  answer.  "  My  dear  Wilkie,  you  know  I  love  you. 
Do  you  think  I  should  love  you  if  I  didn't  firmly 
believe  that  you  would  do  just  the  same  thing  in  my 
place  ?  "  He  might  have  ended,  poor  fellow,  by  putting 
me  in  the  wTong  in  a  better  way  than  this ;  he  might 
have  paid  all  his  debts,  and  died  with  a  mind  at  ease, 
but  for  that  second  defect  in  his  character,  to  which  it  is 
now  my  hard  duty  to  allude. 

The  curse  of  an  ungovernable  temper  was  the  curse 
of  Fecliter's  life. 

I  am  not  speaking  of  mere  outbreaks  of  furious  an- 
ger. He  was  too  sensitive  and  too  generous  a  man  not 
to  be  able  to  atone  for  forgetting  himself  in  this  way,  as 
soon  as  his  composure  was  restored.  But,  when  he 
once  took  offence,  a  lurking  devil  saturated  his  whole 
being  w-ith  the  poison  of  unjust  suspicion  ar^d  inveter- 
ate hatred  ;  and  that  devil,  the  better  influences  about 
him,  distrusted  rather  than  encouraged  by  himself,  were 
powerless  to  cast  out. 

I  have  no  heart  to  dwell  on  the  number  of  friends 
(honestly  admiring  him,  eager  to  serve  him,  guiltless  of 
consciously  offending  him)  whom  he  estranged  for- 
ever,—  self-deceived  by  his  own  impulsive  misinterpre- 
tation of  motives,  or  misled  by  false  reports  which  he 
had  no  patience  to  examine  before  he  accepted  them  as 
truths.  When  he  first  fascinated  American  audiences 
(there  is  no  exaggeration  of  his  influence  in  using  that 
word)  he  was  offered,  by  formal  agreement,  pecuniary 
prospects  which  would  have  assured  to  him,  as  the  re- 
ward for  a  few  years'  exercise  of  his  art,  a  more  than 


1 62  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

sufficient  income  for  life.  He  quarrelled  with  the  man, 
the  thoroughly  honest  and  responsible  man,  who  made 
him  that  offer.  At  a  Httle  social  gathering,  in  the 
United  States,  the  friend  thus  estranged  said  to  me, 
"  To  this  day,  I  don't  know  what  I  did  to  give 
offence." 

Other  persons  present  were  surprised  to  see  that  he 
spoke  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  I,  who  knew  the  irresist- 
ible attraction  of  Fechter,  when  he  was  in  possession 
of  himself,  understood  and  respected  that  honest  dis- 
tress. It  is  useless  to  pursue  this  subject  by  citing 
other  examples.  When  Fechter  died  in  poverty,  far 
away  from  relatives  and  friends  in  the  Old  World,  it  is 
not  true  —  I  assert  it  from  what  I  myself  had  opportu- 
nities of  knowing  —  it  is  not  true  to  say  that  the  mis- 
erable end  was  due  to  connections  wliich  he  formed  in 
the  United  States.  The  one  enemy  to  his  prosperity 
was  the  enemy  in  himself.  He  paid  the  penalty  of  his 
ungovernable  temper,  —  and  no  man  can  own  it  mth 
truer  sorrow  than  the  man  who  has  reluctantl}-  \\Titten 
these  Unes. 

Let  us  pass  into  a  brighter  atmosphere.  Before  we 
leave  him,  let  us  see  him  at  his  best. 

The  sensitive  natiu-e  of  the  man  —  undoubtedly  the 
motive -power  of  the  all- attractive  social  influence  by 
which  his  friends  delight  to  remember  him  —  showed 
itself  noticeable  in  what  I  may  call  the  private  practice 
of  his  art.  He  will  be,  perhaps,  most  intelligibly  re- 
vealed in  this  aspect,  if  I  consult  my  own  experience 
of  him  at  a  time  when  we  were  engaged  together  in 
preparing  a  play  for  the  stage. 


Cl/ARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER.  163 

I  had  the  honor  of  wTiting  the  Christmas  story  called 
"  No  Thoroughfare  "  in  literary  association  with  Charles 
Dickens.  We  in\ented  the  story  at  Gadshill,  in  the 
Swiss  chalet  which  had  been  Fechter^s  gift  to  Dickens. 
\Mien  our  last  page  of  manuscript  had  been  set  up  in 
type,  I  returned  to  other  literary  labors  which  had  been 
suspended  in  favor  of  "  No  Thoroughfare,"  and  which 
kept  me  so  closely  employed  that  I  saw  nothing  of  ray 
brethren  in  art  for  some  litde  time.  During  this  inter\al 
Fechter  had  read  the  proof-sheets,  had  (to  use  his  o\\-n 
phrase)  "  fallen  madly  in  love  with  the  subject,"  and 
had  prepared  a  scenario  or  outline  of  a  dramatic  adap- 
tation of  the  stor}',  under  Dickens's  superintendence 
and  approval.  This  done,  Dickens  took  his  departure 
for  the  United  States,  leaving  the  destinies  of  the  un- 
written play  safe,  as  he  kindly  said,  in  my  hands. 
Fechter  next  presented  himself  with  the  scenario,  laid 
the  manuscript  on  my  desk,  offered  me  a  pen  with 
a  low  bow,  and  said  :  "  Dickens  has  gone  away  for  six 
months ;  he  will  find  '  No  Thoroughfare  '  running 
when  he  comes  back."  For  once,  in  this  case,  a  mod- 
em prophecy  was  actually  fulfilled. 

The  play  \vritten,  —  a  far  harder  task  than  I  had  an- 
ticipated, requiring  such  new  presentation  of  some  of  the 
persons  of  the  story  as  almost  involved  the  re-creating 
of  them,  —  Fechter  at  once  assumed  the  character  of 
Obcnreizer  in  private  life.  When  he  entered  his  study 
or  mine,  it  was  an  entrance  on  the  stage.  He  ate  and 
drank  "  in  character  "  when  he  dined  with  me  or  I 
dined  with  him.  The  play  was  in  his  hands  all  day 
and  at  his  bedside  all  night.     At  rehearsal  he  was  quite 


1 64 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


ready  to  perform  ever)'  other  character  in  the  drama, 
by  way  of  an  example  which  might  brighten  and  im- 
prove the  business  on  the  stage.  Once  or  twice 
the  ovem'helming  nen-ous  excitement  that  possessed 
him  showed  itself  in  a  curiously  suggestive  way ;  his 
English  speech  betrayed,  for  the  first  time  in  my  expe- 
rience, that  he  was  thinking  in  French. 

When  the  memorable  day  arrived,  and  a  few  hours 
only  interposed  between  us  and  the  ordeal  of  the  first 
night,  that  terrible  form  of  nen-ous  prostration  called 
stage  fidght  —  from  which  all  good  actors  suffer,  more 
or  less,  at  their  first  appearance  in  a  new  part  —  began 
its  attack  on  Fechter  at  breakfast  time. 

He  could  eat  nothing,  not  even  the  French  garlic 
sausage  which  offered  the  one  attainable  refuge  to  his 
stomach  on  other  occasions.  Pale,  silent,  subdued,  he 
sat  in  a  comer  of  the  room,  and  looked  like  a  man 
waiting  the  appearance  of  the  sheriff  to  conduct  him  to 
the  scaffold.  I  handed  him  his  pipe ;  he  was  not 
even  able  to  smoke.  "  Are  you  going  in  front  to  see 
your  play?"  he  asked,  with  a  look  of  blank  despair. 
I  could  honestly  answer  that  my  ner\-es  were  never 
strong  enough  to  endure  that  trial  on  the  first  night. 
"You  will  be  behind  the  scenes,  then?"  "Yes." 
"  For  God's  sake,  come  to  my  room  !  " 

Before  the  performance  began,  I  went  accordingly  to 
Fechter's  room. 

Dressed,  as  to  the  lower  part  of  him  only,  for  the 
character  of  Obenreizer,  he  sat  helplessly  staring  into  a 
white  basin,  held  before  him  by  his  attendant  in  the 
attitude  of  a  sailor  on  a  channel  steamer  comforting  a 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER. 


165 


suffering  lady.  "  Here  's  Mr.  Fechter  sick,  sir,"  said 
the  man,  "  and  nothing  in  him  to  bring  up."  (The 
reader  will,  I  hope,  pardon  this  literal  report  in  con- 
sideration of  its  absolute  fidelity  to  the  truth.)  I  said 
a  comforting  word,  and  proposed  a  few  drops  of  lau- 
danum. Unable  to  speak,  Fechter  answered  by  put- 
ting out  his  tongue.  The  color  of  it  had  turned,  under 
the  ner\-ous  terror  that  possessed  him,  to  the  metallic 
blackness  of  the  tongue  of 'a  parrot.  When  the  over- 
ture began,  —  easily  audible  in  the  dressing-room,  — 
another  attack  made  the  basin  necessary. 

In  the  inten-al  that  followed,  Obctireizcr' s  upper  gar- 
ments were  put  on,  and  the  last  touches  were  added  to 
his  head  and  face.  The  next  sound  that  reached  us 
was  the  well  deserved  applause  which  greeted  the  ap- 
pearance of  that  admirable  actor  and  worthy  kind- 
hearted  man,  Benjamin  Webster,  in  the  character  of 
yocy  Ladle.  Fechter  gave  me  one  expressive  look, 
and  turned  to  the  basin  again.  His  colleague's  en- 
trance on  the  stage  preceded  his  own  entrance  by  no 
very  long  space  of  time.  Soon  the  knock  was  heard  at 
the  door,  and  the  dreadful  voice  of  the  call-boy  sum- 
moned Mr.  Fechter  to  be  ready.  He  took  my  arm 
to  descend  the  stairs  which  led  from  his  room  to  the 
stage.  Our  procession  of  two  was  completed  by  the 
attendant  with  his  basin  ready,  —  and,  what  is  more, 
wanted,  at  the  critical  moment  when  we  stood  behind 
the  door  through  which  Obcnrcizcr  was  to  make  his 
appearance.  Some  one  near  me  whispered,  "  Good 
heavens,  he  will  be  taken  ill  before  the  audience  !  "  I 
whispered  back,  "  Wait  and  see."  In  another  minute 
the  words  were  spoken  which  gave  him  the  cue. 


l66  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

"  Ask  Mr.  Obenreizer  to  step  this  way."  The  door 
was  briskly  opened  ;  the  glare  of  the  footlights  shone 
on  the  favorite  of  the  public ;  the  round  of  applause 
at  the  sight  of  him  rang  out  all  over  the  crowded  the- 
atre. In  an  instant  the  moral  courage,  which  had  de- 
serted him  behind  the  scenes,  rallied  its  forces  in  the 
presence  of  the  audience.  Fechter's  first  words  proved 
him  to  be  in  full  possession  of  all  his  resources.  The 
stranger  who  had  predicted  such  terrible  results  lifted 
his  eyebrows  in  mute  amazement.  The  attendant  and 
the  basin  vanished  together. 

"  No  Thoroughfare  "  had  a  run  of  two  hundred 
nights.  We  were  not  so  fortunate  in  making  our  next 
joint  appeal  to  the  public,  in  the  drama  called  "  Black 
and  White." 

Fechter's  lively  mind  was,  to  use  his  own  expression, 
"full  of  plots."  He  undertook  to  tell  me  stories 
enough  for  all  the  future  novels  and  plays  that  I  could 
possibly  live  to  write.  His  power  of  invention  was 
unquestionably  remarkable ;  but  his  method  of  narra- 
tion was  so  confused  that  it  was  not  easy  to  follow  him, 
and  his  respect  for  those  terrible  obstacles  in  the  way 
of  free  imagination  known  as  probabilities  was,  to  say 
the  least  of  it,  in  some  need  of  improvement. 

One  of  his  plots,  however,  he  presented  intelligibly 
in  the  form  of  a  scenario.  The  story,  as  I  thought 
and  still  think,  was  full  of  dramatic  interest.  Follow- 
ing Fechter's  outline  in  the  first  two  acts,  and  suggest- 
ing a  new  method  of  concluding  the  story,  to  which  he 
agreed,  I  wrote  the  drama  called  "  Black  and  White," 
being  solely  responsible  for  the  conception  and  devel- 


CHARLES  ALBERT  EECIITER. 


167 


opment  of  the  characters,  and  for  the  dialogue  attribu- 
ted to  them. 

This  work,  presented  for  the  first  time  to  the  public 
at  the  Adelphi  Theatre,  London,  on  the  29th  of  March, 
I S69,  was  received  by  the  audience  of  the  first  night 
with  tumultuous  applause,  Fechter's  performance  of 
the  principal  part  being  even  finer  than  his  perform- 
ance of  Obcnrcizer. 

As  a  play,  "  Black  and  White  "  was  considered  by 
my  literary  brethren  (and  justly  considered)  to  be 
better  work  than  "  No  Thoroughfare."  We  left  the 
theatre  with  the  fairest  prospect  of  another  run  of 
six  months.  But,  after  some  few  weeks  the  regular 
Adelphi  audience  reminded  us  gently,  by  means  of 
vacant  places  in  the  theatre,  of  an  objection  to  the 
play  which  had  never  once  occurred  to  either  of  us. 
We  had  completely  forgotten  the  popular  mania  of  sev- 
enteen years  before,  satirized  by  the  French  as  Oncle 
Tommerie.  Almost  every  theatre  in  Great  Britain  had, 
in  those  days,  provided  an  adaptation  of  "  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin."  It  mattered  nothing  that  the  scene  of  "  Black 
and  White"  was  laid  far  away  from  the  United  States, 
in  the  Island  of  Trinidad,  and  that  not  one  of  the  persons 
of  the  drama  recalled  the  characters  in  Mrs.  Stowe's 
novel  in  the  slightest  degree.  Mrs.  Stowe's  subject  was 
slavery,  and  our  subject  was  slavery ;  and  even  the  long- 
suffering  English  public  had  had  enough  of  it. 

We  had  had  enough  of  it,  in  our  different  way,  after 
the  piece  had  been  performed  about  sixty  nights. 
What  would  the  scene-painters",  carpenters,  property- 
men,  and  supernumeraries,  who  now  make  dramas  for 


1 68  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER. 

the  theatre,  assisted,  it  is  right  to  add,  by  a  handy  oc- 
casional person  called  an  author,  —  what  would  these 
collaborators  say  to  a  run  of  sixty  nights?  They 
would  say  :  "  You  made  a  great  mistake  ;  address  the 
eyes,  ears,  and  noses  of  the  audience,  and  (consciously 
or  unconsciously)  you  may  reproduce  anything  that 
has  been  done  before  ;  but  if  you  ivill  meddle  with  the 
minds  of  the  audience,  then  they  begin  to  think,  and 
no  theatrical  human  being  can  answer  for  the  conse- 
quences." 

Enough,  by  this  time,  of  the  stage,  —  even  in  recol- 
lections of  an  actor. 

There  is  a  little  villa  in  the  northwestern  suburb  of 
London,  close  to  the  eastward  extremity  of  St.  John's 
Wood  Road,  which  I  can  never  pass  now  without  a 
feeling  of  sadness.  It  is  the  last  house,  inhabited  by 
Fechter  during  his  sojourn  in  England.  Here  we 
feasted  and  laughed  and  revelled  in  somfe  of  the  bright- 
est social  enjoyments  that  life  can  afford.  What  a 
dreadful  barrenness  stares  at  me  from  those  doors  and 
windows  now  ! 

The  conventional  restraints  of  society  have  a  use  and 
a  value  which  are  not  to  be  denied.  But  it  is  equally 
indisputable  that  they  exact  burdensome  observances 
from  men  in  want  of  recreation  after  that  hardest  of  all 
work,  which  is  the  work  of  the  brain  done  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  arts.  The  formal  assumption  of  evening 
dress,  the  introductions  to  strangers,  the  effort  of  con- 
versation, the  necessity  of  listening  with  the  same 
polite  attention  to  tiresome  people  and  agreeable  people 
alike,  —  these  and  other  social  sacrifices,  so  easy  to 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER.  igg 

the  idle  or  the  lightly  employed  guest,  exact  a  merci- 
less strain  on  the  nenes  of  a  man  whose  fancy  and 
imagination,  whose  utmost  creative  powers,  have  been 
heavily  taxed  for  hours  together.  He  has  made  him- 
self agreeable,  he  has  enlarged  his  circle  of  acquaint- 
ances, he  has  perhaps  strengthened  his  influence  among 
certain  classes ;  but  he  has  not  rested  after  his  work, 
and  he  knows  it  when  he  rises  the  next  morning. 

After  his  arrival  in  England,  Fechter's  success  won  him 
his  entrance  into  society.  He  was  welcome  everj'where, 
and  he  made  himself  worthy  of  his  reception  in  the  best 
sense  of  the  word.  But  the  time  came  when  he  felt 
the  strain  on  his  resources.  He  applied  the  remedy ; 
he  folded  up  his  dress  coat ;  he  tlirew  away  his  white 
cravat.  Thenceforth,  when  he  had  his  free  evenings, 
he  offered  up  polite  apologies  on  the  altar  of  society, 
and  enjoyed  himself,  as  the  wise  populace  expresses  it, 
in  his  own  way. 

Sometimes  he  dined  with  his  friends,  and  oftener 
his  friends  dined  with  him.  In  either  case  we  were  as 
independent  of  formalities  as  the  monks  of  Theleme 
themselves.  But  one  rule  existed ;  punctuality  to  the 
dinner-hour  was  insisted  on.  I  record  it  with  pride  ; 
the  one  act  of  folly  never  committed  by  any  one  of  us 
was  the  folly  of  waiting  for  a  late  guest. 

The  evenings  at  Fechter's  house  present  the  best 
picture  of  Fechter. 

In  the  summer  time  his  guests  generally  found  him 
waiting  for  them  in  the  front  garden,  in  his  dressing- 
gown  and  slippers.  The  Frenchwoman  who  cooked 
for  him  —  one  of  the  finest  artists  that  ever  handled  a 


I70 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FE CUTER. 


saucepan  —  came  out  to  tell  us  when  dinner  was 
ready.  Nobody  (the  master  of  the  house  included) 
had  any  special  place  at  the  table,  but  everybody  sat 
where  he  might,  had  his  own  httle  cruet-stand,  and 
never  troubled  his  neighbors  for  the  necessary  condi- 
ments. No  servants  waited  on  us.  The  cellar  was  on 
the  sideboard.  Each  guest  picked  out  the  wines  that 
he  liked  best,  and  put  the  bottle  by  him  when  he  took 
his  chair.  The  dogs  dined  with  us,  and  friends'  dogs 
were  welcome.  People  who  could  not  speak  English 
spoke  French ;  and  Englishmen  in  the  same  predica- 
ment stuck  to  their  own  language,  —  expressive  panto- 
mime being  used  on  either  side  in  illustration  of  the 
meaning.  Anybody  who  felt  the  heat  was  requested  to 
take  off  his  coat  and  dine  in  his  shirt-sleeves.  Any 
guest,  particularly  skilled  in  the  preparation  of  a  special 
dish,  went  into  the  kitchen  and  helped  the  cook. 
Sometimes  Gassier  stuffed  the  tomatoes  and  Fechter 
brought  up  the  dish.  We  had  every  variety  of  French 
cookery,  —  and  twice  we  put  the  inexhaustible  re- 
sources of  gastronomic  France  to  the  test  by  diniiig 
on  one  article  of  food  only,  presented  under  many  dif- 
ferent forms.  We  had  a  potato  dinner  in  six  courses, 
and  an  egg  dinner  in  eight  courses.  Never  did  the 
perfect  freedom  and  gayety  of  the  talk  suffer  shipwreck 
on  the  perilous  rocks  of  religion  and  politics.  A  dis- 
putatious man  would  not  have  had  a  chance  of  using 
his  tongue  at  that  table. 

The  gushes  of  merriment  were  as  inexhaustible  as 
the  gushes  of  garlic.  The  smoking  began,  as  the 
smoking  alwa)'s  should  begin,  the  moment  dinner  was 


CHARLES  ALBERT  EECHTER.  j-j 

over.  With  tlie  appearance  of  the  coffee,  the  amuse- 
ments of  the  evening  took  a  new  turn.  Guests  pos- 
sessed of  special  accomplishments  now  assumed  a 
prominent  place.  Friendly  singers  and  musicians,  well 
known  to  the  pubUc,  showed  us  what  their  art  cou^d 
do.  Fechter's  never  flagging  gayety  exhibited  him  in 
a  new  character,  —  as  a  low  comedian  and  a  mimic. 
He  played,  for  instance,  a  little  French  scene  —  in  which 
the  persons  were  a  thief  under  examination,  and  a  juge 
cT instruction  completely  baffled  by  the  dense  stupidity 
of  the  prisoner  —  with  a  perfection  of  quaint  humor  not 
to  be  forgotten  and  not  to  be  described.  Equally  irre- 
sistible were  his  imitations  of  the  elder  Dumas  ^\Titing 
one  of  his  magnificent  novels  in  a  race  against  time, 
and  of  another  far  less  illustrious  Uterary  man  tr}-ing  to 
shave  himself  in  a  state  of  intoxication.  Equal  to 
Fechter  in  fertility  of  resource,  the  kind-hearted,  genial 
Gassier  was  ready  to  sing  any  operatic  music  within  the 
reach  of  his  fine  baritone  voice,  and  was  so  skilled  a 
musician  that  he  invented  his  own  accompaniment  on 
the  piano  when  memory  and  music-books  happened  to 
fail  him. 

In  the  inter\-als  of  these  special  entertainments, 
actors  deservedly  eminent  on  the  French  stage  inter- 
ested us  by  talk  of  their  art,  and  by  remembrances  of 
their  famous  colleagues.  That  accomplished  and  ele- 
gant comedian,  Berton  the  elder,  told  us  how  they 
worked  at  the  rehearsals  of  "  The  Demi-mjDnde."  Mau- 
rice Desrieux  —  the  most  lovable  and  most  affection- 
ate of  men,  the  wise,  patient,  and  devoted  friend  of 
Fechter  —  described  the    strain   laid  on  his  dramatic 


1/2 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


resources  by  the  dangerous  situations  in  the  fourth 
act  of  Sardou's  "  Maison  Neuve,"  in  which  the  main 
responsibility  rested  on  the  character  which  he  played 
in  the  piece.  Of  these  three  variously  gifted  men,  — 
Gassier,  Berton,  Desrieux,  —  not  one  sur\'ives.  Shall 
I  \vx\X&  of  other  guests,  and  perhaps  recall  more  pleas-  ■ 
ant  voices  that  are  now  silent  forever  ?  Once  more  the 
shadow  of  Death  darkens  my  view  of  the  past.  It  is 
time  to  have  done. 

When  I  visited  the  United  States  in  the  years  1873- 
4,  Fechter's  was  the  first  face  I  saw  on  disembark- 
ing at  the  wharf.  We  went  together  to  my  hotel  in 
New  York,  and  he  gave  me  the  benefit  of  his  experi- 
ence in  ordering  my  first  American  dinner.  He  left 
me  at  night  with  a  parting  flash  of  the  old  gayety. 
"  You  will  find  friends  here,  wherever  you  go,"  he  said; 
"  Don't  forget  that  I  was  the  friend  who  introduced  you 
to  Soft  Shell  Crab." 

But  there  was  a  change  —  a  melancholy  change  — 
in  him,  which  I  soon  discovered.  Although  he  shrank 
from  confessing  it,  signs  not  to  be  mistaken  told  me 
that  he  was  brooding  over  his  wasted  opportunities  and 
his  doubtful  future.  The  happiest  days  of  his  life  were 
now  passed  at  his  httle  farm  in  Pennsylvania.  There  I 
visited  him,  sincerely  regretting  that  public  engage- 
ments limited  me  to  a  sojourn  of  a  few  days  only.  In 
my  travels  afterwards,  whene\er  we  could  meet  we  did 
meet.  When  I  left  New  York  for  the  last  time,  he 
dined  with  me.  The  two  or  three  other  friends  who 
were  of  the  party  remarked  the  depression  of  his  spir- 
its.    We  parted,  —  not  to  meet  again. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER.  1-3 

I  wish  I  could  add  to  tTiese  last  words  some  of  the 
letters  addressed  to  me  by  Fechter,  which  I  have 
thought  it  right  to  preser\-e.  Even  these  are  not  only 
too  personal  to  be  presented  to  the  public,  but  they 
are,  in  many  places,  so  expressed  (unconsciously  on 
his  part,  it  is  needless  to  say)  as  to  be  in  danger  of 
leading  to  erroneous  impressions  of  him  in  the  minds 
of  strangers. 

This  memorial  portrait  of  Fechter  would  not  be  im- 
proved as  a  likeness  by  borrowing  his  own  words. 

^Vriting  to  me  on  the  death  of  a  friend  whom  we 
both  dearly  loved,  Charles  Dickens  says,  "  We  must 
close  the  ranks  and  march  on."  On  a  dreary  English 
winter  day  I  close  these  pages,  and  escape  from  my 
recollections  by  turning  to  my  work. 

WILKIE    COLLINS. 

London,  iSth  Januarj-,  1SS2. 


PRESS    NOTICES 


FECHTER'S    ACTING. 


vi 


PRESS  NOTICES  ON  FECHTER'S  ACTING. 


The  distinguished  artist,  whose  name  is  prefixed 
to  these  remarks,  purposes  to  leave  England  for  a 
professional  tour  in  the  United  States.  A  few  words 
from  me,  in  reference  to  his  merits  as  an  actor,  I  hope 
may  not  be  uninteresting  to  some  readers,  in  advance  of 
his  publicly  proving  them  before  an  American  audi- 
ence, and  I  know  will  not  be  unacceptable  to  my  inti- 
mate friend.  I  state  at  once  that  Mr.  Fechter  holds 
that  relation  towards  me ;  not  only  because  it  is  the 
fact,  but  also  because  our  friendship  originated  in  my 
public  appreciation  of  him.  I  had  studied  his  acting 
closely,  and  had  admired  it  highly,  both  in  Paris  and  in 
London,  years  before  we  exchanged  a  word.  Con- 
sequently, my  appreciation  is  not  the  result  of  per- 
sonal regard,  but  personal  regard  has  sprung  out  of  my 
appreciation. 

The  first  quality  observable  in  j\Ir.  Fechter's  acting 
is,  that  it  is  in  the  highest  degree  romantic.  However 
elaborated  in  minute  details,  there  is  always  a  peculiar 
dash  and  vigor  in  it,  like  the  fresh  atmosphere  of  the 
story  whereof  it  is  a  part.  When  he  is  on  the  stage, 
it  seems  to  me  as  though  the  story  were  transpiring 
before  me  for  the  first  and  last  time.     Thus  there  is  a 


178 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


fei-vor  in  his  love-making — a  suffusion  of  his  whole 
being  with  the  rapture  of  his  passion  —  that  sheds  a 
glory  on  its  object,  and  raises  her,  before  the  eyes  of 
the  audience,  into  the  light  in  which  he  sees  her. 

It  was  this  remarkable  power  that  took  Paris  by 
storm,  when  he  became  famous  in  the  lover's  part  in 
the  "  Dame  aux  Camelias."  It  is  a  short  part,  really 
comprised  in  two  scenes ;  but,  as  he  acted  it  (he  was 
its  original  representative),  he  left  its  poetic  and  exalt- 
ing influence  on  the  heroine  throughout  the  play.  A 
woman  who  could  be  so  beloved,  who  could  be  so 
devotedly  and  romantically  adored,  had  a  hold  upon 
the  general  sympathy  with  which  nothing  less  absorbing 
and  complete  could  have  invested  her. 

When  I  first  saw  this  play  and  this  actor,  I  could  not, 
in  forming  my  lenient  judgment  of  the  heroine,  forget 
that  she  had  been  the  inspiration  of  a  passion  of  which 
I  had  beheld  such  profound  and  affecting  marks.  I 
said  to  myself,  as  a  child  might  have  said  :  "  A  bad 
woman  could  not  have  been  the  object  of  that  wonder- 
ful tenderness,  could  not  have  subdued  that  worship- 
ping heart,  could  not  have  drawn  such  tears  from  such 
a  lover."  I  am  persuaded  that  the  same  effect  was 
wrought  upon  the  Parisian  audiences,  both  consciously 
and  unconsciously,  to  a  very  great  extent,  and  that  what 
was  morally  disagi-eeable  in  the  "  Dame  aux  Came'lias  " 
first  got  lost  in  this  brilliant  halo  of  romance.  I  have 
seen  the  same  play  with  the  same  part  otherwise  acted;, 
and  in  exact  degree  as  the  love  became  dull  and  earthy, 
the  heroine  descended  from  her  pedestal. 

In  "RuyBlas,"  in  "The  Master  of  Ravenswood," 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECILTER. 


1/9 


and  in  "The  Lady  of  Lyons,"  —  three  dramas  in  which 
Mr.  Fechter  especially  shines  as  a  lover,  —  but  notably 
in  the  first,  this  remarkable  power  of  surrounding  the 
beloved  creature,  in  the  eyes  of  the  audience,  with  the 
fascination  that  she  has  for  him,  is  strikingly  displayed. 
That  observer  must  be  cool  indeed  who  does  not  feel, 
when  Riiy  Bias  stands  in  the  presence  of  the  young 
unwedded  Queen  of  Spain,  that  the  air  is  enchanted ; 
or  when  she  bends  over  him,  leaving  her  tender  touch 
upon  his  bloody  breast,  that  it  is  better  so  to  die  than 
to  li\e  apart  from  her,  and  that  she  is  worthy  to  be  so 
died  for.  When  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  declares 
his  love  for  Lucy  Ashton,  and  she  hers  for  him,  and 
when,  in  a  burst  of  rapture,  he  kisses  the  skirt  of  her 
dress,  we  feel  as  though  we  touched  it  ^vith  our  lips 
to  stay  our  goddess  from  soaring  away  into  the  very 
heavens.  And  when  they  plight  their  troth  and  break 
the  piece  of  gold,  it  is  we  —  not  Edgar  —  who  quickly 
exchange  our  half  for  the  half  she  was  about  to  hang 
around  her  neck,  solely  because  the  latter  has  for  an  in- 
stant touched  the  bosom  we  so  dearly  love.  Again,  in 
"  The  Lady  of  Lyons,"  the  picture  on  the  easel  in  the 
poor  cottage  studio  is  not  the  unfinished  portrait  of  a 
vain  and  arrogant  girl,  but  becomes  the  sketch  of  a 
soul's  high  ambition  and  aspiration  here  and  hereafter. 

Picturesqueness  is  a  quality  above  all  others  per- 
vading Mr.  Fechter's  assumptions.  Himself  a  skilled 
painter  and  sculptor,  learned  in  the  history  of  costume, 
and  informing  those  accomplishments  and  that  knowl- 
edge with  a  similar  infusion  of  romance  (for  romance 
is  inseparable  from  the  man),  he  is  always  a  picture, — 


l8o  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

always  a  picture  in  its  right  place  in  the  group,  always 
in  true  composition  with  the  background  of  the  scene. 
For  picturesqueness  of  manner,  note  so  trivial  a  thing 
as  the  turn  of  his  hand  in  beckoning  from  a  window,  in 
"Ruy  Bias,"  to  a  personage  down  in  an  outer  court- 
yard to  come  up ;  or  his  assumption  of  the  Duke's 
livery  in  the  same  scene ;  or  his  writing  a  letter  from 
dictation.  In  the  last  scene  of  Victor  Hugo's  noble 
drama,  his  bearing  becomes  positively  inspired ;  and 
his  sudden  assumption  of  the  attitude  of  the  heads- 
man, in  his  denunciation  of  the  Duke  and  threat  to  be 
his  executioner,  is,  so  far  as  I  know,  one  of  the  most 
ferociously  picturesque  things  conceivable  on  the  stage. 
The  foregoing  use  of  the  word  ferociously  reminds 
me  to  remark  that  this  artist  is  a  master  of  pas- 
sionate vehemence ;  in  which  aspect  he  appears  to  me 
to  represent,  perhaps  more  than  any  other,  an  interest- 
ing union  of  characteristics  of  two  great  nations,  the 
French  and  the  Anglo-Saxon.^  Born  in  London  of  a 
French  mother,  by  a  German  father,  but  reared  entirely 
in  England  and  in  France,  there  is,  in  his  fuiy,  a  com- 
bination of  French  suddenness  and  impressibiUt}'  with 
our  more  slowiy  demonstrative  Anglo-Saxon  way  when 
we  get,  as  we  say,  "  our  blood  up,"  that  produces  an 
intensely  fiery  result.  The  fusion  of  two  races  is  in 
it,  and  one  cannot  decidedly  say  that  it  belongs  to 
either ;  but  one  can  most  decidedly  say  that  it  belongs 
to  a  pow-erful  concentration  of  human  passion  and 
emotion,  and  to  human  nature. 

^  This  is  a  mistake ;  Fechter's  mother  was  Piemontese. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  EEC  LITER.  igi 

Mr.  Fechter  has  been  in  the  main  more  accustomed 
to  speak  French  than  to  speak  English,  and  therefore 
he  speaks  our  language  with  a  French  accent.  But 
whosoever  would  suppose  that  he  does  not  speak 
English  fluently,  plainly,  distinctly,  and  with  a  perfect 
understanding  of  the  meaning,  weight,  and  value  of 
every  word,  would  be  greatly  mistaken.  Not  only  is 
his  knowledge  of  English  —  extending  to  the  most  sub- 
tle idiom  or  the  most  recondite  cant  phrase  —  more 
extensive  than  that  of  many  of  us  who  have  Enghsh  for 
our  mother  tongue,  but  his  delivery  of  Shakespeare's 
blank  verse  is  remarkable,  facile,  musical,  and  intelligent. 
To  be  in  a  sort  of  pain  for  him,  as  one  sometimes  is  for  a 
foreigner  speaking  English,  or  to  be  in  any  doubt  of  his 
having  twenty  synonymes  at  his  tongue's  end  if  he 
should  want  one,  is  out  of  the  question  after  haWng 
been  of  his  audience. 

A  few  words  of  two  of  his  Shakespearian  imperson- 
ations, and  I  shall  have  indicated  enough  in  advance 
of  Mr.  Fechter's  presentation  of  himself.  That  quality 
of  picturesqueness,  on  which  I  have  akeady  laid  stress, 
is  strikingly  developed  in  his  lago  ;  and  yet  it  is  so  ju- 
diciously governed  that  his  lago  is  not  in  the  least 
picturesque  according  to  the  conventional  ways  of 
frowning,  sneering,  diabolically  grinning,  and  elabo- 
rately doing  everything  else  that  would  induce  Othello 
to  run  him  through  the  body  very  early  in  the  play. 
Mr.  Fechter  is  the  lago  who  could  and  did  make^ 
friends ;  who  could  dissect  his  master's  soul  without 
flourishing  his  scalpel  as  if  it  were  a  walking-stick  ;  who 
could  overpower  Emilia  by  other  arts  than  a  sign  of 


1 82  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

the  Saracen's  Head  grimness ;  who  could  be  a  boon 
companion  without  ipso  facto  warning  all  beholders  off 
by  the  portentous  phenomenon ;  who  could  sing  a 
song  and  cHnk  a  can  naturally  enough,  and  stab  men 
really  in  the  dark,  —  not  in  a  transparent  notification 
of  himself  as  going  about  seeking  whom  to  stab.  ^Mr. 
Fechter's  lago  is  no  more  in  the  conventional  psycho- 
logical mode  than  in  the  conventional  hussar  panta- 
loons and  boots  ;  and  you  shall  see  the  picturesqueness 
of  his  wearing  borne  out  in  his  bearing  all  tlirough  the 
tragedy,  down  to  the  moment  when  he  becomes  invin- 
cibly and  consistently  dumb. 

y-  Perhaps  no  innovation  in  art  was  ever  accepted  mth 
so  much  favor  by  so  many  intellectual  persons,  pre- 
committed  to  and  preoccupied  by  another  system,  as 
Mr.  Fechter's  Hamlet.  I  take  this  to  have  been  the 
case  (as  it  unquestionably  was  in  London),  not  because 
of  its  pictm'esqueness,  not  because  of  its  novelt}%  not 
because  of  its  many  scattered  beauties,  but  because  of  its 
perfect  consistency  with  itself.  As  the  animal  painter 
said  of  his  favorite  picture  of  rabbits,  that  '■'  there  was 
more  nature  about  those  rabbits  than  you  usually  found 
in  rabbits,"  so  it  may  be  said  of  ls\x.  Fechter's  Hamlet, 
that  there  was  more  consistency  about  that  Hamld 
than  ^-ou  usually  found  in  Hamlets. 

Its  great  and  satisfying  originality  was  in  its  possess- 
ing the  merit  of  a  distinctly  conceived  and  executed 
idea.  From  the  first  appearance  of  the  broken  glass 
of  fashion  and  mould  of  form,  pale  and  worn  with  weep- 
ing for  his  father's  death,  and  remotely  suspicious  of  its 
cause,  to  his  final  struggle  with  Horatio  for  the  fatal 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FEC LITER. 


183 


cup,  there  were  cohesion  and  coherence  in  Mr.  Fech- 
ter's  view  of  tlie  character. 

De\Tient,  the  German  actor,  had,  some  years  before 
in  Lx)ndon,  fluttered  the  theatrical  doves  considerably 
by  such  changes  as  being  seated  when  instructing  the 
jilayers,  and  like  mild  departures  from  established 
usage  ;  but  he  had  worn,  in  the  main,  the  old  nonde- 
script dress,  and  had  held  forth,  in  the  main,  in  the  old 
way,  hovering  between  sanity  and  madness.  I  do  not 
remember  whether  he  wore  his  hair  crisply  curled  short, 
as  if  he  were  going  to  an  everlasting  dancing-master's 
party  at  the  Danish  Court,  but  I  do  remember  that 
most  other  Handds  since  the  great  Kemble  have  been 
bound  to  do  so.  Mr.  Fechter's  Havilct,  a  pale  woe- 
begone Norseman  with  long  flaxen  hair,  wearing  a 
strange  garb  never  associated  with  the  part  upon  the 
English  stage  (if  ever  seen  there  at  all),  and  making  a 
piratical  swoop  upon  the  whole  fleet  of  little  theatrical 
prescriptions  without  meaning,  —  or,  like  Dr.  Johnson's 
celebrated  friend,  with  only  one  idea  in  them  and  that  a 
wTong  one,  —  never  could  have  achieved  its  extraordi- 
nary success  but  for  its  animation  by  one  per\'ading 
purpose  to  which  all  changes  were  made  intelhgibly 
subser\'ient.  Tlie  bearing  of  this  purpose  on  the  treat- 
ment of  Ophelia,  on  the  death  of  Pohmius,  and  on  the 
old  student  fellowship  between  Hamlet  and  Horatio, 
was  exceedingly  strikisg ;  and  the  difference  between 
picturesqueness  of  stage  arrangement  for  mere  stage 
effect,  and  for  the  elucidation  of  a  meaning,  was  well 
displayed  in  there  having  been  a  gallery  of  musicians  at 
the  play,  and  in  one  of  tljem  passing,  on  his  way  out. 


1 84 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


with  his  instrument  in  his  hand,  when  Hmiilet,  seeing 
it,  took  it  from  him  to  point  his  talk  with  Rosencrantz 
and  Guildcnstern. 

This  leads  me  to  the  observation  with  which  I  have 
all  along  desired  to  conclude  :  that  Mr.  Fechter's  ro- 
mance and  picturesqueness  are  always  united  to  a  true 
artist's  intelligence  and  a  true  artist's  training  in  a  true 
-artist's  spirit.  He  became  one  of  the  company  at  the 
Theatre  Frangais  when  he  was  a  very  young  man,  and 
he  has  cultivated  his  natural  gifts  in  the  best  schools. 
I  cannot  wish  my  friend  a  better  audience  than  he  will 
have  in  the  American  people,  and  I  cannot  wish  them 
a  better  actor  than  they  will  have  in  my  friend. 

CHARLES  DICKENS. 
[Atlantic  Monthly,  August,  1869.]  * 


There  was  something  so  decidedly  novel  in  Mr. 
Fechter's  performance  of  Hamlet,  and  it  so  long  re- 
mained a  subject  of  interest,  not  only  with  his  admirers 
but  with  those  who  questioned  the  correctness  of  his 
theory,  that  the  announcement  of  his  intended  appear- 
ance as  Othello,  made  several  months  since,  has  proved 
a  source  of  general  curiosity  among  the  large  body  of 
literary  playgoers  who  properly  regard  the  representa- 
tions of  Shakespeare's  characters  as  the  highest  test  of 
histrionic  excellence.  Whether  the  more  impassioned 
Othello,  prompt  in  physical  action,  would  appear  to 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER.  ig- 

greater  or  less  advantage  under  his  treatment  than  the 
more  reflective  Hamlet,  infirm  of  purpose,  all  might  be 
certain  that  nothing  commonplace  or  conventional 
would  be  witnessed,  but  that  an  intellectual  and  con- 
scientious artist  would  present  them  with  an  interpre- 
tation not  founded  on  stage  tradition,  but  derived 
solely  from  a  study  of  Shakespeare's  text.  Nor  was 
curiosity  disappointed  by  the  fact  that  a  private  per- 
formance of  "  Othello,"  too  complete  to  be  termed  a 
rehearsal,  took  place  on  Thursday  night,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  numerous  though  select  audience.  Indeed, 
those  who  did  not  belong  to  the  exclusive  party  on 
Tuesday  were  eager  yesterday  morning  to  question 
their  more  privileged  friends ;  and  the  anxiety  to  know 
the  result  of  the  first  public  performance,  which  took 
place  last  night,  was  rather  heightened  than  quenched 
by  the  partial  revelations  of  the  previous  evening. 

An  edition  of  "  Othello,"  by  Mr.  Fechter,  circulated 
on  Tuesday  and  now  regularly  published,  sufficed  to 
show  that  in  the  entire  conduct  of  the  play  a  com- 
pletely new  ground  would  be  taken.  There  is  not  in 
this  edition  a  single  explanatory  note,  but  the  minute 
stage  directions,  which  even  describe  the  emotions  to 
be  portrayed,  amount  to  a  psychological  comment  on 
the  tragedy.  German  dramatists,  of  the  Kotzebue 
school,  wTOte  and  printed  their  own  stage  directions 
on  a  similar  principle,  and  have  sometimes  been  ridi- 
culed on  that  account,  as  fliey  were  charged  with  en- 
deavoring to  conceal  the  poverty  of  their  dialogue  by 
the  wealth  of  their  rubric.  No  such  ridicule  can  attach 
to  Mr.  Fechter,  who  interprets  an  author  already  estab- 


135  CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

lished  as  classical,  and  who  wishes  to  show  by  precept, 
as  well  as  by  example,  his  notions  how  ''  Othello  " 
ought  to  be  represented. 

The  theory  of  Mr.  Fechter,  practically  manifested 
last  night,  is  not  to  be  sought  merely  in  his  own  per- 
formance of  the  principal  character.  The  lago  of  Mr. 
Ryder  and  the  Desde?nona  of  Miss  Leclercq  must  be 
regarded  as  embodying  to  a  certain  extent  the  con- 
ceptions of  the  ingenious  innovator ;  for  they  must  have 
been  forced  to  unlearn  all  they  retained  of  stage  tradi- 
tions before  they  could  move  easily  in  the  path  pre- 
scribed for  them  in  the  rehearsals.  All  these  details 
of  action  which  are  technically  expressed  by  the  word 
business  have  been  changed,  and  the  work  is  pre- 
sented under  an  aspect  entirely  new.  People  sit  where 
they  were  v/ont  to  stand,  are  scattered  about  where  they 
used  to  be  huddled  together,  and  reformed  into  pictur- 
esque groups  where  they  once  were  marshalled  into 
unvarying  straight  lines.  When  Othello  hears  the  first 
insinuations  of  lago  he  is  quietly  writing  his  despatches 
at  a  table  ;  when  lago  utters  his  satire  against  woman, 
he  is  leaning  on  a  pillar  with  his  merry  listeners  gath- 
ered around  him ;  when  the  death  of  Roderigo  takes 
place,  it  is  witli  all  the  preparation  and  circumstances 
of  a  grand  melodramatic  murder ;  and  so  on  through 
the  entire  piece,  —  having  in  his  preface  declared  war 
against  "  tradition  "  as  the  worm-eaten  and  unwhole- 
some prison  where  dramatic  art  languishes  in  fetters. 

\Londoii  Times,  Oct.  24,  1S61.] 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER. 


187 


..-'  Mr.  Fechter  skilfully  simulates  the  tenderness  and 
devotion  of  a  new-made  husband.  The  rapid  tran- 
sition of  feeling,  as  he  suddenly  passes  from  the 
happy  dalliance  of  love  to  the  stern  business  of  the 
camp,  is  also  well  marked ;  and  his  severe  reproof  to 
his  officers  for  managing  their  private  and  domestic 
quarrels  in  a  town  of  war,  where  the  people's  hearts  are 
brimful  of  fear,  is  deli\-ered  with  impressive  dignity  of 
tone,  manner,  and  aspect.  The  third  act  is,  as  every 
one  knows,  the  grandest  and  most  sublime  in  the 
tragedy.  The  beauties  of  Mr.  Fechter's  acting  in  this 
all-important  portion  of  the  play  are  neither  few  nor 
trivial.  His  blank  look  of  horror  when  his  torturer 
first  infuses  the  poison  of  suspicion  by  means  of  the 
perfidious  suggestion,  "  She  did  deceive  her  father, 
marrying  you  ;  "  his  attempt  to  shake  off  his  misgiv- 
ings as  a  fearful  dream ;  his  struggle  to  speak  calmly 
while  his  agony  is  revealed  by  the  little  movements 
of  his  hands,  the  twitching  of  the  muscles  of  his  face, 
and  the  slight  but  fearful  trembling  of  his  veins ;  the 
brief  return  of  love  to  his  bursting  heart  when  Desde- 
vi07ia  approaches  him ;  and  the  bitter  anguish  with 
which  he  refers  to  the  afflictions  he  could  have  borne 
had  his  wife  but  remained  tnie  to  him,  —  are  all  thrill- 
ingly  visible  to  those  whose  proximity  to  the  stage  ena- 
bles them  to  observe  closely  the  play  of  the  actor's 
features,  and  the  significance  of  his  minutest  gesture. 
The  profound  dejection  of  his  voice  and  manner  when, 
in  reply  to  lago's  proffers  of  sympathy,  he  exclaims 
with  a  sigh  like  a  spasm,  "  Not  a  jot,  not  a  jot,"  is  per- 
fectly heart-breaking  \    and   the  proud  disdain  which 


I  88      CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 

swells  in  his  bosom  when  he  utters  the  humiliating 
words,  "  Set  on  thy  wife  to  observe  "  is  finely  con- 
ceived and  forcibly  expressed.  But  his  mode  of  ex- 
claiming "  O  fool !  fool !  fool !  "  when  he  discovers 
how  he  has  been  abused,  like  one  awakening  from  a 
trance  of  horrors  of  which  he  is  scarcely  conscious, 
and  his  last  sad  retrospect  of  the  sorrows  of  his  life 
and  of  the  angelic  qualities  of  his  lost  love,  are  most 
impressive  ;  as  also  is  the  wild  despair  with  which  he 
hangs  over  the  body  of  Desdemona  and  vainly  calls 
upon  her  by  name. 

\London  Morning  Post,  Oct.  21,  1861.] 


The  success  which  attended  Mr.  Fechter's  assump- 
tion of  the  character  of  Hainlei  Xd&i  season  completely 
accounts  for  the  curiosity  of  the  public,  demonstrated 
in  an  unusually  crowded  house  which  was  exhibited 
last  night  when  he  attempted  Othello.  The  fact  that 
Mr.  Fechter  played  Hamlet  seventy-five  times  proves 
the  effect  of  his  performance  upon  the  general  public. 
That  he  made  a  deep  impression  uj^on  the  most  intel- 
lectual of  playgoers,  —  and  moreover  upon  a  class  of 
persons  who  of  late  have  been  accustomed  to  look 
upon  theatrical  exhibitions  with  a  feeling  nearly  akin 
to  contempt,  —  is  also  well  known  to  most  of  those 
who  have  the  opportunity  of  forming  correct  opinions 
on  such  matters. 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER. 


189 


In  the  first  two  acts  Othello  has  httle  to  do ;  but  in 
these,  in  the  dignity  with  which  he  receives  the  re- 
proaches of  Brabantio,  and  in  tlie  frank,  easy,  yet  per- 
suasive deUvery  of  the  apology,  the  true  dramatic  artist 
could  be  seen.  In  the  scene  in  which  Othello  interrupts 
and  reproves  the  drunkenness  of  Cassia,  the  assump- 
tion of  dignity  to  which  we  have  been  accustomed, 
and  which  was  wanting  in  Mr^  Fechter,  was  undoubt- 
edly more  effective,  but  less  true  to  a  natural  view  of 
the  character.  It  is  by  the  third  act  that  every  Othello 
must  be  tested.  Here  a  striking  change  has  been  in- 
troduced ;  it  is  not  till  late  in  the  scene  that  Othello 
is  made  to  yield  to  a  suspicion  of  his  wife's  falsehood. 
He  appears  first  to  disregard  or  to  utterly  misunder- 
stand the  innuendoes  of  lago,  then  to  accept  them  as 
general  reflections  not  applicable  to  himself  any  more 
than  to  any  one  else.  Next,  as  they  are  reiterated,  he 
becomes,  in  the  simple  honesty  of  his  nature,  completely 
puzzled ;  but  not  till  lago  alludes  to  Brabantio''s  early 
warning,  in  the  lines  "  She  did  deceive  her  father,  mar- 
r)^ing  you,"  does  the  actual  suspicion  strike  him,  as  with 
a  thunderstruck  expression  he  exclaims,  "  And  so  she 
did."  Mr.  Fechter's  utterance  of  "  Not  a  jot,  not  a 
jot,"  was  remarkably  expressive,  and  drew  forth  one  of 
the  loudest  bursts  of  applause  of  the  evening.  It  is 
just  after  this  that  he  catches  a  sight  of  his  black  face  in) 
the  glass  ;  and,  as  lago  proceeds,  he  continually  glances 
in  the  direction  of  the  mirror,  till  he  is  worked  up  to 
request  lago  to  set  on  Emilia  "  to  obser\e," — immedi- 
ately after  suggesting  which,  an  expression  of  the  deepest 
shame  breaks  over  his  countenance.     This  new  treat- 


190 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


ment  of  the  scene  affords  room  not  for  so  much  energy 
as  we  have  witnessed,  but  for  numerous  delicate  and 
subtle  touches.  Again,  in  the  subsequent  scene,  the 
Farewell  is  accompanied  with  action  most  varied  and 
expressive.  The  eager  look  with  which  Othello  drinks 
in  lago's  story  of  Cassia's  dream  was  a  remarkable  in- 
stance of  facial  expression,  and  the  agitation  and  ex- 
citement that  goes  on  increasing  throughout  this  scene 
was  finely  marked.  Another  fine  passage  was  the 
Handkerchief  scene  with  Desdevioiia.  The  intense 
expectation  with  which  he  watched  the  result  of  his 
first  enquiry,  the  doubts,  the  delight  with  which  for  a 
moment  he  drew  her  to  his  bosom,  where  she  says  "  it 
is  not  lost,"  with  his  subsequent  repulse  of  her,  and  the 
towering  passion  of  his  demand  for  its  production,  were 
most  effective ;  and  the  picture  formed  by  the  sudden 
appearance  of  Emilia,  just  as  his  arm  is  raised  to  strike 
Desdemona,  made  a  most  fitting  close  to  this  part  of  the 
scene.  The  fourth  act,  —  where  he  receives  the  letter 
from  the  Senate,  and  behaves  with  such  violence  to  his 
wife,  —  whilst  equally  effective,  was  rendered  less  than 
ordinarily  painful  by  the  evident  strong  feeling  by  which 
every  tone  and  movement  appears  to  be  dictated. 

[Lofiilon  Morjung  Herald,  Oct.  24,  1861.] 


It  is  not  until  the  third  act  that  Mr.  Fechter  puts 
forth  any  of  his  powers,  and  up  to  that  period  many 
celebrated    speeches,   hitherto   known    as   points,    fall 


CHARLES  ALBERT  EEC  LITER. 


191 


flatly  enough  upon  the  ear.  The  Address  to  the  Senate 
for  instance,  which  has  for  so  long  held  an  Enfield's 
Speakerish  celebrity  on  oration  days  at  minor  schools, 
is  divested  of  all  that  rotundity  of  eloquence  and  pom- 
pous manner  hitherto  allotted  to  it.  In  Mr.  Fechter's 
mouth  it  is  simply  an  honest  apology  for  a  natural  action 
colloquially  delivered.  In  the  second  act,  too,  there 
is  nothing  specially  noticeable  saving  the  ovenveening 
tenderness  invariably  displayed  to  Desdemona,  and  the 
purely  natural  savage  tone  in  which  the  "  noisy  bell  " 
is  ordered  to  be  silenced,  during  the  drunken  quarrel  be- 
tsveen  Cassio  and  Montatw.  But  the  whole  of  the  third 
act,  as  far  as  Othello  is  concerned,  sparkles  into  original 
genius  when  lago  first  asks  about  Cassia's  acquaint- 
ance with  Desdemona.  Otiiello  answers  him  lightly. 
He  is  looking  over  some  papers,  and  speaks  at  first  al- 
most at  random.  Then,  finding  his  interlocutor  repeating 
his  phrases  and  harping  with  full  power  on  certain  words, 
he  rallies  him  lightly  and  playfully.  Not  even  when  the 
suggestion  of  his  wife's  infidelity  is  made,  does  he  wince, 
until  lago  reminds  him  of  the  manner  in  which  she 
deceives  her  father.  Then  his  face  falls,  and  the  avowal 
"  .\nd  so  she  did,"  comes  in  drear)-  heart-broken  accents 
fi-om  between  his  parted  lips.  The  entire  scene  is  re- 
plete with  beauties.  Nothing  can  be  finer  than  the 
touch  of  nature  conveyed  in  the  tone  in  which  he  re- 
plies "■  Not  a  jot,  not  a  jot,"  when  lago  hints  that  he 
has  dashed  his  spirits  ;  nothing  more  suggestive  than  the 
abrupt  stop  which  the  noble-hearted  J/^^t^r  comes  to  when 
the  hint,  so  loathsome  to  his  real  nature,  —  that  Emilia 
should  be  set  on  to  watch  Desdemona,  —  first  rises  to  his 


192 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECHTER. 


lips  ;  nothing  grander  than  the  gradual  rousing  of  liis 
rage  during  lago's  recital  of  Cassia's  dream,  and  the 
vehement  burst  with  which  he  declares  that  he  will  be 
satisfied  of  his  wife's  fidelity. 

It  is  in  touches  of  this  kind  —  and  there  are  dozens 
of  them  tliroughout  the  play  —  that  Mr.  Fechter's  ge- 
nius is  shown. 

\London  Daily  N'rws,  Oct.  24,  1861.] 


In  the  third  act,  and  especially  in  the  scene  where 
his  jealousy  is  first  aroused  by  lago,  the  powers  of  the 
actor  began  to  be  displayed.  Nothing  could  be  finer 
than  the  constrained  calmness  with  which  he  attempts 
to  defend  himself  from  the  accusation  of  being  de- 
pressed by  the  suspicions  the  tempter  has  aroused  in 
his  mind.  The  apparently  commonplace  words  "  Not 
a  jot,  not  a  jot  "  were  never  uttered  in  a  tone  of  truer 
pathos.  Then  again  when,  more  and  more  persuaded 
of  his  wife's  infidelity,  he  begs  lago  to  place  Emilia  as 
a  spy  upon  Desdcinona,  the  expression  of  shame  and 
anguish  that  immediately  followed  was  most  finely  ren- 
dered. Both  these  points  were  at  once  obser\'ed  by  the 
audience,  and  the  applause  ehcited  w^as  of  the  most 
enthusiastic  character. 

In  the  second  scene  of  the  fourth  act,  too,  Othello's 
burst  of  tender  pathos,  after  denouncing  Desdernona  as 
false,  had  all  the  effect  of  a  sudden  inspiration,  and 
touched  the  sympathies  of  the  entire  house.     In  the 


CHARLES  ALBERT  FECIITER.  jq^ 

last  act  Mr.  Fechter  gave  singular  significance  to  the 
opening  lines  of  the  scene,  "  It  is  the  cause,  it  is  the 
cause,  my  soul,"  by  glancing  at  himself  in  the  mirror 
as  he  spoke,  as  though  exposing  Desdcmona's  frailty  by 
the  color  of  his  face,  —  thus  recurring  to  an  idea  ex- 
pressed in  a  previous  part  of  the  play. 

Throughout  the  representation  it  was  easy  to  see  that 
an  original  mind  had  been  at  work,  and  this  not  only 
in  one  character  but  in  all ;  and  we  believe  we  are  justi- 
fied in  stating  that  to  Mr.  Fechter  are  due  the  many 
novelties  introduced  into  the  stage  arrangements  of  the 
piece.  Nearly  all,  in  fact,  of  what  is  called  by  actors 
the  business  of  the  tragedy,  is  entirely  new. 

{London  Daily  Telegraph,  Oct.  24,  1S61.] 


INDEX. 


"  A  HI  ME,  L' "  ("  No  Thorough- 
fare "),  59,  70. 

Academic  des  Beaux  Arts,  15, 
18,  19,  21. 

Adelphi  Theatre,  London,  59, 
70.  79,  167. 

Albert  Edward,  Priitce  of 
IVah's,   57,  61. 

Albert,  Prince  Consort,  t^-x,. 

Ambigu,  L',  Paris,  32,  y^,,  34, 

36.41- 
"  Andre  Gerard,"  47. 
'*  Angcle,"  36. 
"  Antigone,"  32. 
Arcachon,  France,  4. 
Athenccum  (London)  on  Fcch- 

ter's  acting,  51. 
Aiiqier,  Emilc,  4S. 

Baptiste,  Mlle.,  32. 
Baptiste,  Xicolas-Anselm,  32. 
Barriire,  Theodore,  39,  44. 
Barry,  Spranger,  (yj. 
Bayard,   Jean- Francois- Alfred, 

31.  39- 

Beaiimarehais,    Pierre-Augiiste, 

47- 
Beauvallet,  Pierre-Fran(ois,  17, 
18,  27. 


"Bel  Demonio,"  54,  55. 
"Belle  Gabrielle,  La,"  46. 
Belle-w,  Pe?:  J.  N.,  147. 
"  Belphegor,"  56. 
Beraiid,  Anthony,  32. 
Berlin,  Prussia,  29,  30. 
Bernhardt,  Sara,  148. 
Berton,  CharUs-Francesqiie,  171, 

172. 
Bettertotij  Thomas,  114,  115. 
Birmingham,  England,  59. 
'•  Black   and    ^Yhite "    59,   60, 

61,  78,  158,  166-16S. 
Bocage,  Pierre-M.    T,   32,   yj, 

38. 

Bois  de  Boulogne,  8,  9. 

Booth,  Barton,  1 1 5. 

Boston,  Mass.,  68,  69,  70,  71, 
7Z,  74.  75.  78.  80,  140. 

Boston  Theatre,  68,  69. 

Boulognc-sur-Seine,  7. 

Bourgeois,  Aiigitste-Anicet,  36. 

"  Bride  of  Lammermoor " 
("  ^L^stcr  of  Ravens- 
wood"),  58,  152,  15S,  17S- 

179- 
"  Britannicus,"  48. 
Brut  IIS,  Ala  reus,  107. 
Buloz,  Francois,  28. 


196 


INDEX, 


Bulwer,   Lytto7i,    37,   68,    122, 

123,  125. 
Biirbage,  Richard,  114. 

C^SAR,  Julius,  107. 
Cafe  Militaire,  Paris,  7. 
Cartigny,  Claude-Charles,  32. 
Cary,  Alary,  74. 
"  Catilina,"  36. 
Cellini,  Benvettuto,  4. 
Cetywayo  (King  of  the  Zulus), 

156. 
"Chalet,  Le,"  30. 
Chanfrati,  Mrs.  I/etirietta,  74. 
Charles  II.  of  England,  27. 
"Charles  VII.",  36. 
Cheney,  Arthur,  73,  75,  76,  77, 

78. 
"  Chevalier  de  St.  George,  Le," 

31- 

Charley,  Henry  F.,  50. 
Chw-chill,  Charles,  ij6. 
Cibber,  Colley,  1 14,  115. 
"  Claudie,"  37-39,  41- 
Cocomero,  Florence,  12. 
Coleridge,  Samuel  Taylor,^"],  92. 
Collins,     IVilkie,  mention,    59, 

69-71,  78,  143-146- 
his  sketch  of  Charles  Fech- 

ter,  1 54  et  seq. 
Cologne,  4. 
Comedie    Fran9aise,    56  note, 

145,  148. 
Conservatoire,    Paris,    10,    15, 

16,  18,  19,  43. 
"  Contes  de  Boccace,  Les,"  39, 

43- 

Continental    Hotel,    Philadel- 
phia, 140. 

Cooke,  George  Frederick,  115. 

Cornel  lie,  20,  25,47. 


"  Corsair,  Le",  30. 

"  Corsican  Brothers,  The,"  37, 

41,  50.    59.    73.    79.    135 
et  seq.,  138,  152. 

"  Coucher   d'une   Etoile,  Le," 

39- 

"  Courier  of  Lyons,  The, "36. 

Covent  Garden  Theatre,  Lon- 
don, 122. 

Dacier,  M.  (baritone),  29. 

Daly,  H.  F.,  74. 

"  Dame    aux    Camelias,   La," 

26,  34,  39-43.  45.  147,  154, 

178. 
Davenport,  Lizzie  Weston  (Mrs. 

Charles  Mathews),  151. 
Decourcelles,  Adrien,  34-36. 
"  Demi-monde,  The,"  171. 
De   Montepin,    Xavier-Aymon, 

"  Depit,  Le,"  28. 
Desnoyer,  Charles,  36. 
Desrieux,  Maurice,  171,  172. 
"  Dettes  de  Coeur,  Les,"  40. 
Dearie  fit.  Emit,  183. 
"  Diable,  Le,"  37,  39. 
Dic/cens,     Charles,    dedication, 

SO,   56,   59,  65,  67,  69-70, 

Si.  83,  163,  173. 
on  Fechter's  acting,  50,  149, 

'5-- 1 53-  177  <-'(  ^^^■ 
Didier,  Prof,  18. 
Doche,  Mme.  (Marie-Charlotte- 
Eugenie  de  Plunkett),  40, 

42,  146,  147. 

"  Don  Caesar  de    Bazan,"   50, 

73,  78,  132  et  seq.,  150. 
Dore,  Gustave,  1 41. 
D' Or  say.  Count,  33. 
"  Douglas,"  155. 


INQEX. 


197 


Drurv  Lane  Theatre,  London, 

6. 
Dublin,  Ireland,  114. 
Dudci'ant,     Mme.     ("  George 

Sand  "),  37-39- 
"  Duke's  Motto,  The,"  54,  67, 

69,  13S,  15F,  15S. 
Dumas,   Alexandre   (elder),  9, 

12,    2S,   36,    37.    135,    136, 

139.  17'- 
Dumas,    Alexandre  (younger), 

39,40,  154. 
on  Fechter's  acting,  41-42. 
Dttpin,  yean-Hcnri,  31. 
Duvernoir,     Prof,    (manager), 

10,  12,  13. 
Dut'eyrier,  Aniu-Honare-yoseph 

("Melesville"),  31. 

Elizabeth  (Queen  of  Frede- 
rick William  IV.  of  Prus- 
sia), 30,  31. 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  128. 

"  Enfants  d'Edouard,  Les,"  30. 

Enfield,  William,  191. 

Essler,  feanne,  40. 

Falconer,  EoMrND,  150. 
"  Famille  Thurcau,  La,"  34. 
Fechtcr,  Charles : 

his  mixed    nationality,  4,  5, 
180. 

birth,  5. 

early  passion  for  the  Drama, 

5- 
early  experiences  as  a  player, 

6,7. 
education,  6,  7. 
assists    his    father     in    the 

studio,  7,  10. 
fights  a  duel,  7-9. 


Fechtcr,  Charles: 

first  appearance  as  a  player, 
9-10. 

engagement  in  Florence, 
10-13. 

adventure  with  a  highway- 
man, 12-13. 

studies  sculpture,  15,  18. 

studies  acting,  15-18,  20. 

gains  grand  medal  at  Beaux 
Arts,  and  admission  to 
the  Theatre  Fran9ais,  21. 

decides  upon  following  the 
stage,  21-22. 

debut  at  Theatre  Fran9ais, 
22. 

quarrels  with  Jules  Janin, 
26. 

returns  to  sculpture,  29. 

dramatic    career    in    Berlin, 

30- 
engages    at    Vaudeville    in 

Paris,  31,  39. 
engages  at  Varietes  in  Paris, 

35- 

engages  at  Theatre  Histo- 
rique  in  Paris,  36,  37. 

engages  at  L'  Ambigu  in 
Paris,  36. 

engages  at  Porte-Saint-Mar- 
tin in  Paris,  37,  46. 

engages  at  Odeon  in  Paris, 

47- 
first  appearance  in  London, 

32-34- 
quarrels      with        "  George 

Sand,"  37-39- 
provincial   tours  in  France, 

45-. 
provincial    tours    in    Great 
Britain,  59. 


198 


INDEX. 


Fechtcr,  Charles : 

second  engagement  in  Lon- 
don, 49  ct  scq. 

opens  Lyceum  Theatre,  Lon- 
don, 54  ct  scq. 

marriage,  56. 

visit  to  America  (1S70),  61, 
64   et  seq. 

first  appearance  in  New 
York,  65. 

first  appearance  in  Boston, 
68. 

association  with  Arthur 
Cheney,  73  et  scq. 

opens  Globe  Theatre, Boston, 
74  et  scq. 

quarrels  with  J.  W.  Wal- 
lack,  Jr.,  75-77. 

beginning  of  his  decline  in 
powers  and  attractions, 
79,  80,  81,  82,  172. 

opens  Lyceum  Theatre,  New 
York,  79. 

returns    to    London    (1872), 

79- 
opens   Park    Theatre,   New 

York,  80. 
seeks  seclusion  on  his  farm, 

81. 
ill  health,  81,  82. 
death,  82. 
burial,  83. 
grave,  83. 
generosity,  39,  55. 
personal    courage,    7-9,    34, 

44-45- 
personal      attractions      and 

magnetism,   83,    150,   162, 

169. 
personal    appearance,    1 1 5- 

116. 


Fechter,  Charles: 
character,  84,  153. 
accomplishments,  34, 41,116, 

117,   179. 
hot  temper,  29,  39,   44,  45, 

75,  77,  149,   150,    152-153, 

161-162. 
loose     ideas     of    pecuniary 

responsibility,  160-161. 
disregard  for  conventionali- 
ties of  society,  168  ^/  scq. 
stage  fright,  164-166. 
invention,  6,  166. 
humor,  171. 
list  of  parts,  28,  30,  36,  37, 

39-40,  43,  46,  48,  73,  78. 
his  Annand  in  "  Dame  aux 

Came  lias,  "40-43,  147, 178. 
his  Claude  jMeltiottc'm  "  Lady 

of  Lyons,"  59,  121  ct  seq. 
his  Don  Ccrsarde  Bazan,  132. 
his    Edgar    in    "  Master    of 

Ravenswood  "  {"  Bride  of 

Lammermoor  "),  58,  179. 
his    Fahicn    and    Louis    dei 

Franchi  in  "The  Corsican 

Brothers,"  135  et  seq. 
his    Frederic   de   Mar  sail   in 

"  On  Demande  un  Gouver- 

neur,"  131  ^Z  seq. 
his    Hatnlet,    50,    52,    68,  87 

ct  scq.,  148,    150,    153,    158, 

1S2-1S5,  1S8. 
his   lago  in   "  Othello,"    53, 

148,  153,  1 58,  181-182. 
his   Karl  in   "  Love's    Pen- 
ance," 80. 
his  Motitc  Crista,  136  et  scq. 
his       Oheiircizcr      in     "  No 

Thoroughfare,"  59,  71-72, 

163,  166. 


INDEX. 


199 


Fechter,  Charles: 

his  Othello,  52,  14S,  152,  158, 

iSi,  1S4-1S6,  1S7-193. 
his  Ploughboy  in  "  Claudie," 

38. 

his  Ruy  Bias,  65-66,  79,  148, 
158,  179-180. 

his  Seide  in  "  Mahomet,"  22- 
24. 

his  Tarliiffe,  47-48. 

his  ralere  in  "  Tartuffe," 
24,  25. 

Wilkie  Collins  on  his  acting, 
\S4efse<j. 

Charles  Dickens  on  his  act- 
ing, 50,  149,  152-153,  177 
el  seq. 

Alexandre  Dumas  (younger) 
on  his  acting,  41-42. 

Frederic  Lemaitre  on  his 
acting,  42. 

Geo.  H.  Lewes  on  his  act- 
ing. 51-52,  mS. 

London   Athenaium   on  his 

acting,  51. 
London  Daily  News  on  his 

acting,  190  if/  seq. 
London  Daily  Telegraph  on 

his  acting,  192  et  seq. 
London  Morning  Herald  on 

his  acting,  iSS  et  seq. 
London  Morning  Post  on  his 

acting,  187  et  seq. 
London  Times  on  his  acting, 

65,  79,  1S4  et  seq. 
Regnier  on  his  acting,  28. 
Saturday  Review  on  his  act- 
ing, 51. 
Herman  Vezin  on  his  acting, 

1 50  et  seq. 
John  Weiss  on  his  acting,  68. 


Feehter,  Charles : 

William  Winter  on  his  act- 
ing, 80. 
Edmund  Vates  on  his  acting, 
147  et  seq. 

Fechter,  Mine.  Charles  (Mile. 
Roebert),  56  note. 

Fechter,  yeati-Maria-Guillantue 
(father  of  Charles  Fech- 
ter), 4,  5,  7,  ID,  15,  21,  22, 
180. 

Fechter,  Maria  (daughter  of 
Charles  Fechter),  56  note, 
14S. 

Fechter,  Marie- A  ngilique-Regis 
(mother  of  Charles  Fech- 
ter), 3,  4,  15,  180. 

Fechter,  Paul  (son  of  Charles 
Fechter),  56-57,  148. 

Felix,  Rachel  (Mile.  Rachel),  9, 
19,  24,  25,  27,  28. 

Felix,  Rebecca,  19,  22. 

"  Femmes  Savantes,  Les,"  28. 

Fh'al,  Paul,  36,  53. 

Field,  Nat.,  74. 

Fields,  James  T.,  71. 

"  Fille  de  Trente  Ans,  La,"  39, 

43- 

"  Fille  du  Regent,  La,"  28. 

"  Filles  de  Marbre,  Les,"  39. 

"  Fils  Aymon,  Les,"  36. 

"  Fils  de  la  Nuit,"  46. 

Florence,  Italy,  lo,  11,  12. 

Fontainblcau,  ■^^. 

Fould,  Achille,  48. 

"Fourberies  de  Scapin,  Les," 
28. 

Foiirnier,  Marc-yeati-Lotiis,  36. 

Fourteenth  Street  Theatre, 
New  York  (French  Theatre, 
Lyceum  Theatre),  73,  79. 


200 


INDEX. 


Frederick  William  IV.  (of  Prus- 
sia), 31. 

French  Theatre,  New  York, 
(Fourteenth  Street  Theatre, 
Lyceum  Theatre),  73,  79. 

Gadshill  (Swiss  chalet),  163. 

Gaiete  Theatre,  Paris,  36. 

Garrick,  David,  58,  67, 1 14, 1 1 5, 
116,  155. 

Gassier,  J/,  (singer),  170,  171, 
172. 

Gastati,  M.  (actor),  10. 

Geoffroy,Jea)i- Maria-Michel, Z2. 

"  George  Saiid  "  (Mme.  Dude- 
vant),  37-39. 

Gearges,  Mile.,  7. 

Giotto  de  B  or  done,  134. 

Glasgow,  Scotland,  59. 

Globe  Theatre,  Boston,  74-78, 
79.  140. 

Globe  Theatre,London  (Shake- 
speare's), 74. 

Goethe,  31,  87,  89,  112,  113. 

"  Golden  Dagger.The,"  53,  150. 

Gozlan,  Leon,  36,  39. 

Grand  Opera  House,  Xew 
York,  79. 

Griffith,  G.  H.,  74. 

G}Tnnase  (Theatre),  Paris,  29, 
30.  43- 

"  Hamlet,"  5,  50-51,  52,  53,  54, 

55-56,58,61,68,73.78,87 

•     et  seq.,  137,  147,  148,   150- 

152,  153,  157,  158,  1S2-184, 

185,  1S8. 

Harris,  Augustus    (elder),   48, 

52,  53.  54- 
Harris,    Augustus    (younger). 


Harrison,  William,  53,  54. 
Haver  ley,  J.  H.,  73. 
Hazlitt,  William,  106  note,  13S. 
Hendrich,  Hermann,  153. 
Herald  (London)  on  Fechter's 

acting,  188  et  seq. 
Herder,  John  Gottfried,  31. 
Hersant,  M.   (drawing-master), 

7- 
"  Honneur  et  I'Argent,  L' ,"  47. 
"  Horaces,  Les,"  25,  27. 
"  Hortense  de  Ceruy,"  39,  40, 

41. 
Hugo,  Victor,  57,  157,180. 
Hunt,  Leigh,  117. 

Janin,  Jules,  25-26. 
"  Jeunesse  Doree,"  36. 
"  Jeunesse,  La,"  48. 
yohnsoti,  Samuel,  1S3. 
yo7ies,  Meli/ida,  74. 
yonson,  Ben,  137. 
yosset,  M.  (actor),  32. 

KE-A.X,  Charles,  54,  136. 
Kean,  Edmund,  63,  106  note, 

112,  115,  117,  157. 
Kemble,  Charles,  6,  92. 
Kemble,  yohn  Philip,  III,  114, 

115,  116,  183. 
"  King  Lear,"  137. 
"  King's  Butterfly,  The,"  56. 
Kotzebue,  Augustus  F.  F.  von., 

1S5. 

Labrousse,       Fabric  -  Jean- 

Baptiste,  36. 
"Lady  of  Lyons,  The,"  59,  61, 

6S,  73,  78,  79,  121  et  seq., 

158,  179. 


INDEX. 


20 1 


Laitdor,  Walter  Scn^age,  83. 
Lane,  Richard,  51. 
La  Rue,  M.  (actor),  27. 
Leclcrcq,  Arthur,  74. 
LecUrcq,   Carlotta,   6S,    74,    78, 

157.  1S6. 
Leclcrcq,  Charles,  74. 
LemAitre,  Frederic,    31,  42,  47, 

132,  134.  158. 
Lemoyne,  IF.  J.,  74. 
Le-iVes,  George  Henry,  on  Fech- 

ter's  acting,  51,  52,  148. 
"Lion  et  le  Moucheron,  Le," 

Lisle,  France,  4. 

Liverpool,  England,  59,  60. 

London,  England,  5,  32,  t^t,,  49, 
60,  61,  79,  136,  138,  150, 
154, 167,  16S,  177,  180,  182, 
183. 

London  Athenaeum  on  Fech- 
ter's  acting,  51. 

London  Daily  News  on  Fech- 
ter's  acting,  190  et  seq. 

London  Daily  Telegraph  on 
Fechter's  acting,  192  et  seq. 

London  Morning  Herald  on 
Fechter's  acting,  iS8  et  seq. 

London  Morning  Post  on  Fech- 
ter's acting,  187  et  seq. 

London  Times  on  Fechter's 
acting,  65,  79,  184  et  seq. 

Lougfelhrdi,  Henry  IV.,  71. 

Lorentz  (painter),  34. 

Louis  XIV.  of  France,  24. 

"Louis  XIV."  (play),  36. 

"  Louis  de  Xanteuil,"  39. 

"  Love's  Penance,"  80. 

Loivell,  James  Russell,  87,  92. 

Lyceum  Theatre,  London,  54, 
58.  59.  79.  151- 


Lyceum  Theatre,  New  York, 
(French  Theatre,  Fourteenth 
Street  Theatre),  73,  79. 

Lyons,  France,  45,  46. 

Lytton,  Lord  (Bulwer-Lytton), 
37,  68,  122,  123,  125. 

"  Macbeth,"  5,  48, 137, 
Macready,  Wni.  C,  6,  III,  122, 

123,  155,  156,  158. 
Maddox,  Mr.  (manager),  33,  34, 

48. 
"  Mahomet,"  16,  20,  22,  24. 
Mail  lard,  M.  (actor),  27. 
"  Maison  Neuve,"  172. 
Malibran,  Mme.,  6. 
Manchester,  England,  60,  61. 
Ma  quel,  August e,  36,  40,  46. 
"  Marguerite,"  31. 
"  Mari  de  la  Veuve,  Le,"  9. 
Mario,  156. 

Marseilles,  France,  13,  14. 
Masson,  Auguste-Michel,  36. 
"  Master  of  Ravenswood.The," 
("The    Bride    of    Lammer- 
moor  "),58, 152, 158, 178-179. 
Mathews,    Charles     (younger), 

151. 
Mathews,  Mrs.  Charles  ( Lizzie 

Weston  Davenport),  151. 
"  Mauprat,"  39. 
"  Mauvais  Cceur,"  36,  41. 
Mecca,  22. 
"  Medecin  des    Enfants,  Lc," 

80. 
Meissounier,  Jean-Louis-Ernest, 

47- 
"  Meles7'ille  "      (Anne-Honore- 

Joseph-Duveyrier),   31. 
"  Menage  Parisien,  Lc,"  28. 
Mcnier,  Pauline,  37. 


)02 


INDEX. 


"Menteur,  Le,"  25,  27. 

Maurice,  Paul,  56. 

Michdot,  Pierre-Maria-Nicho- 
las, 16-17,  iS. 

"  Midsummer  Night's  Dream, 
The,"  137. 

"  Misanthrope,  Le,"  28. 

Moliere,  9,  12,  20,  25,  47. 

"  Money,"  37. 

Montalent,  M.  (actor),  32. 

"  Monte  Cristo,"  59,  74, 79,  136 
et  seq.,  1 58. 

Montgomery,  Walter,  151. 

Moran,  M.  (manager),  35. 

Morny,  Count,  43. 

Mounet-Sully,  Jean,  148. 

"  ^lountebank.  The,"  56. 

Mount  Vernon  Cemetery,  Phil- 
adelphia, 83. 

"  Mysteres  de  Londres,"  36. 

Xapoleox,  Louis,  t,;^,  48-49. 

News  (London),  on  Fechter's 
acting,  190  et  seq. 

New  York,  65-6S,  y^'  79>  So, 
82,  172. 

Niblo's  Garden  Theatre,  New- 
York,  65. 

Nohant,  chateau  de,  37. 

"  No  Thoroughfare,"  59, 69-73, 
158,  163  et  seq.,  167. 

"  Notre  Dame  de  Paris,"  36. 

Od^ox  (Theatre),  Paris,  46, 47. 
"  On  Demand  un  Gouvemeur," 

39,  44,  131  '''  -f^?- 
"  One  Hundred  Years  Old,"  30. 
"  Oscar  XXVIII.,"  34,  36. 
"Othello,"  5,  51-52,   53,   148, 

152,  153,158,  181-182,  184 

-186,  187-193. 


"  Pardon  de  Bretagne,"  36. 
Paris,  France,  5,  7,  24,  26,  31, 

34,  46,  49,  59,  80,  81,  145, 

154,  177-  178. 
Park    Theatre,     New      York 
( Broadway,     near     Twenty- 
Second  Street),  80. 
"  Pattes  de  Mouche,"  43. 
"  Pauline,"  37. 
Phelps,  Samuel,  151. 
Philadelphia,    Pa.",  69,   Si,  83, 

146. 
"Polka  en  Provence,  La,"  31. 
Ponsard,  Fraiifois.  47. 
Porte    Saint-Martin     Theatre, 

Paris,  37,  41,  46. 
Post   (London),    on   Fechter's 

acting,  187  et  seq. 
Potsdam,  Prussia,  31. 
"  Precieuses    Ridicules,  Les," 

28. 
Prifue  Albert  (Prince-Consort), 

33 
Priiice  of  Wales,  ^j,  61. 
Princess's    Theatre,     London, 

33,  48,  49,  53,  54,  61. 
Provost,  Jean-Baptiste-Fratifois, 

r6,  18. 

QuiN.  James,  114. 

R.\CHEL,  Mlle.,  9,  19,  24,  25, 
27,  28. 

Racitie,  2C,  47,  49. 

Regis,  Alaria-Angelique  (moth- 
er of  Charles  Fechter),  3,  4, 
15.  I  So. 

Regnier,  Francois-yoseph,  28. 

"  Richard  III.,"  30,  137. 

Ristori,  Afme.,  67,  116,  138. 


IXDEX. 


203 


"  Roadside  Inn,  The,"  57. 

"  Kolxirt  Macaire,"  57. 

Kochtfort,  Henri,  34. 

"  Rocher  de  S\-siphe,  Le,"  4S. 

Rockland  Centre,  Pa.,  81. 

Roibert,  MIU.  (Mme.  Charles 
Fechter),  56  note. 

Rome,  Italy,  iS,  21,  47,  139. 

"  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  117. 

■•  Rouge  et  Noir,"  59. 

"  Ruy  Bias,"  49,  57,  60,  61, 
65-66,  67,  68,  11,  75-76, 
78,  79.  1-8-  14S,  150.  154, 
'57)  15S,  178,  179,  iSo. 

Ryder,  John,  1S6. 


Salle  Moliere,  Paris,  9,  10. 

Sah'ini,  67. 

Slim  ton,  Joseph- Isidore^  17,  18. 

"  Siuid,  George''^  (Mme.  Dude- 
vant),  37-39. 

Sardoti,  Victorien,  43,  75,  172. 

Saturday  Review  on  Fechter's 
acting,  51. 

Schiller,  31. 

Scribe,  Engine,  10,  12,  39,  43. 

Se^cur,  Victor,  \6. 

Shaiespeare,  5, 30,  49,  50,  51,  52, 
55,  58,68,74,87,88,91,92. 
96,  107,  109,  113,  114,  115, 
116,135,136,  137,138,147, 
153,  158,  181,  184,  1S5. 

"  Sheep  in  Wolfs  Clothing," 
78. 

Sheffield,  England,  55. 

Sidd.ms,  Mrs.,  13S,  155-156. 

Sophocles,  32. 

Soinestre,  £.mile,  37. 

St.  Aubin  (actor  and  manager), 
29. 


St.  Aulaire  (teacher  of  acting), 

9,  10. 
St.  James's  Theatre,  London, 

32- 
.St.  Mark's  Church,  Hamilton 

Terrace,  London,  147. 
Storr  and  Mortimer  ( j  e wele  rs ) 

London,  5. 
Stowe,  Harriet  Beecher,  167. 
Stuart,  William,  So. 
Sue,  Eugene,  33. 
Sw"iss  chalet  at  Gadshill,  163. 


Taglioni,  P.\ul,  30. 
Talma,  20,  1 1 5. 
Ta mister,  M.  (sculptor),  5. 
"Tartuife,"'  12,  20,  24,  28,  47, 

48. 
Taylor,    John   ("  The    Water 

Poet "),  74. 
Telegraph  (London)  on  Fech- 
ter's acting,  192  et  seq. 
Templeton's  College,  6. 
Terry,  Kate,  157. 
Theatres  : 
Adelphi,  London,  59,  70,  79, 

167. 
Boston  Theatre,  68,  69. 
Cocomero,  Florence,  12. 
Comedie  Fran9aise,  56  note, 

145,  148. 
Conservatoire,  Paris,  10,  15, 

16,  18,  19,  43. 
Covent    Garden,     London, 

122. 
Drur)-  Lane,  London,  6. 
Fourteenth    Street   Theatre, 
New  York  (French  Thea- 
tre, Lyceum),  73,  79. 


204 


INDEX. 


Theatres : 

French  Theatre,  New  York 
(Fourteenth  Street  Thea- 
tre, Lyceum),  73,  79. 

Gaiete,  Paris,  36. 

Globe,  Boston,  74-78, 79, 140. 

Globe,  London  (Shake- 
speare's), 74. 

Grand  Opera  House,  New 
York,  79. 

Gymnase,  Paris,  29,  30,  43. 

L'  Ambigu,  Paris,  32,  33,  34, 

36,  41- 
Lyceum,  London",  54,  58,  59, 

79.  151- 

Lyceum,  New  York  (Four- 
teenth Street  Theatre, 
French  Theatre),  i-}^,  79. 

Niblo's  Garden,  New  York, 
65. 

Odeon,  Paris,  46,  47. 

Park,  New  York  (Broadway, 
near  Twenty-Second  St.), 
80. 

Porte-Saint-Martin,  Paris,  ^yl, 
41,  46. 

Princess's,   London,  33,  48, 

49.  53.  54,  61. 
Salle  Moliere,  Paris,  9,  10. 
St.  James's,  London,  32. 
Theatre  Franfais,  15,  18,  19, 

21,  23,  25,   26,  27,  29,  47, 

48,  67,  184. 
Theatre    Histqrique,    Paris, 

36,  Zl^  41- 
Theatre  Royal,  Berlin,  29. 
Theatre  Royal,  Manchester, 

60. 
Varietes,  Paris,  35. 
Vaudeville,  Paris,  31,  39-40, 

41,45.  154- 


Theatre  Francais,  15,  18,  19, 
21,  23,  25,  26,  27,  29,  47, 
48,  67,  184. 

Theatre  Historique,  Paris,  36, 

37,  41- 
Theatre  Royal,  Berlin,  29. 
Theatre     Royal,    Manchester, 

60. 
Tliiboust,  Lambert,  37. 
Times  (London)  on  Fechter's 

acting,  65,  79,  184  etseq. 
"  Trois  Etages,  Les,"  36. 
Tuileries  Palace,  33,  48. 

Ullmann,  Mr.  (manager),  53. 
"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  167. 

"  Valerie,"  28. 
Vandenhoff,  C.H,li,. 
Vandcnhoff,  yokn,-6. 
Varietes  Theatre,  Paris,  35. 
Vaudeville  Theatre,  Paris,  31, 

39-40,41,45,154. 
''  Vestale,  La,"  28. 
Vczin,  Herman,  143,  146. 

on  Fechter's  acting,  1 50  et  seq. 
Victoria,  Queen,  t,-}^. 
"  Vie  en  Rose,  La,"  39,  43,  44. 
"  Vol  a  la  Duchesse,  Le,"  37. 
Voltaire,  16,  17,  20,  22,  24,  25, 

47.  87. 

Wales,  Prtnce  of,  57,  61. 
Wallack,  J.  W.  (elder),  6,  132, 

134- 
Wallack,  J.  W.    (younger),  74, 

75-77- 
"  Watch  Cry,  The,"  58. 
Webster,   PcHJamin,  165. 


IXDEX. 


205 


Weiss,  Jo/in,  on  Fechter's  act- ;  Wittenberg,  89  note. 

ing,  68. 
Weston,  Lizzie  (Mrs.  Charles  1  Yates,  Edmund,  143, 146. 


Mathews),  151. 
IV/tite,  Richard  Grant,  88  note. 
Winter,  William,  on  Fechter's 
acting,  So. 


on    Fechter's  acting,  147   et 
e.j. 

\  "  Zaire,"  28. 


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